


In The Darkness

by Bard_TheChronicler



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Apocalypse, End of the World, Family, Gen, Survival, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 58,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bard_TheChronicler/pseuds/Bard_TheChronicler
Summary: [AU] Top CIA agent Joel Graves is sent on a mission to recover an important asset to the terrorist organization known as the Phoenix Corps. Little does he know that a deadly pandemic is already unleashed by the terrorists, triggering the end of the world as we know it. Now he must navigate in the darkness of this fallen world to find and protect everything he holds dear.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	1. Light The Fire

The sky was marbled with low gray clouds that stretched for miles and miles around, dampening the midday sunlight into a dreary gloom. It was the kind of weather that made most people want to stay indoors, get under a comfy blanket, and curl up by a warm crackling fire while reading a good book and drinking something hot.

The man eyed the clouds for a moment, watching as they moved swiftly across the vast sky. The wind seemed to be blowing stronger with each passing minute, as if trying to bring the storm in from the sea faster. The clouds grew darker as the time passed, steadily growing a more menacing black than the dismal gray.

A fitting day to begin the journey towards his ultimate vision.

His steady gaze drifted downward, taking in the sight of the bustling city sprawled out before him. It was a view the likes of which only a few had a privilege to enjoy on a daily basis, and he was one of them. Sitting in his fine leather chair in his top-floor office, several hundred feet off the ground, he would often watch as the city moved beneath him.

Today, he was standing by the window, his face so close to the glass he could almost kiss it. Each breath fogged the glass a little, but it was only the portion near his chin so it didn't really obscure his view.

Some distance away to his right, he could see the famous London Eye, a giant Ferris wheel situated next to the Thames River. He had never ridden on it, nor did he ever plan to, having no interest in it whatsoever. He could see parts of the Thames River itself as it snaked its way through the city, it's normally dark and mysterious waters even more so thanks to the weather.

Close to the Eye stood Big Ben, the famed clock tower of London as it continued it's timekeeping vigil over the city for well over 150 years now. Though in actuality, the name "Big Ben" referred to the largest of the tower's five bells, with the tower itself being aptly named the "Clock Tower". However, the tower was now officially renamed to Elizabeth Tower to commemorate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II, the largest bell of course was still to be called Big Ben.

Beneath it was Parliament, in the Palace of Westminster. The heart of the British government. A fair number of them counted him as a friend and ally, though only a scant few could really call him that. Once things were in motion, he would of course offer those few sanctuary. The capable ones, at least.

Gaze sliding even lower, he watched the traffic already clogging the streets and the people scurrying along, living out their little lives, oblivious to the tall man in a finely tailored suit observing them from high above. He wondered how many of them would survive what was to come, and how many would come to appreciate what he was trying to accomplish.

The sound of his office door opening echoed across the largely silent office, the ensuing footsteps on the marble floors loud and unapologetic.

"Everything is in place, sir. We're ready to begin whenever you give the order," said the voice of his right-hand man from behind him.

Those words caused his heart to pump a little faster, nerves tingling with excitement. He breathed in slowly, a deep breath that filled his old lungs, and then he exhaled just as slowly in an attempt to calm himself. He turned away from the enormous floor-to-ceiling window that spanned the entire width of the office, one of three that made up three out of the four walls of his cavernous office.

He turned around and walked back to stand by his desk, placing his perfectly manicured left hand on top of the full-grain dark brown leather chair situated behind a heavy, ebony wood desk. The desk itself had various carvings on its different faces, the most prominent of which was a giant bird – a feathery phoenix in full flight – that was carved into the front face of the desk.

His subordinate was dressed in a dark outfit that could only be described as military, and stood at attention a few paces in front of the desk, a dark-haired man with an eye-patch over his left eye and a long ugly scar running across the side of his face and over that eye up to a little past his eyebrow. According to him, it was a battle wound during some long ago conflict in whatever eastern European country he was originally from.

Black facial hair, neatly trimmed to about an inch thick, encircled the man's mouth, and a well-kept beard ran along his jawline. His posture was impeccable, as much a testimony to his military past as his scars and his well-built physique.

His own steady gaze was returned by his second, not a shadow of emotion crossing either of their faces. Blue eyes met a lone gray eye, the former seemingly testing the will of the latter through a staring contest. Eventually, when it appeared that neither was willing to budge, he finally replied, though his gaze did not leave the eye of his second.

"I am pleased to hear it, Viktor. And the helicopter?" He was by now used to the sound of his own voice, and didn't think much of it other than he liked it. It would be a poor life indeed if you lived it hating your own voice. Others described it to him as strong and cultured, the voice of a man of privilege and intelligence, and he thought it most appropriate.

His second responded in his rough voice, "Fueled and waiting, sir."

"Excellent."

A bottle of fine scotch sat, waiting to be used, next to some crystal glasses on a side table several feet away, and he made his way to it. He gestured to the bottle and looked towards Viktor, who shook his head politely enough. With a single nod of understanding, he filled up a glass of it for himself, neat.

He took a sip, and savored the expensive alcohol running over his tongue and down his throat. He nodded in approval and then turned back towards the windows, glass still in hand.

"Do you believe in our cause, Viktor?" he asked, glancing at the dark-haired man and noting the slightest hint of surprise in his features. Though it quickly faded back into his expressionless mask.

"Of course I believe, sir." The answer came without hesitation.

"Of course you believe," the man in the suit repeated slowly as soon as Viktor had finished speaking, taking another sip of scotch. "But can you tell me _why_?" His eyes watched the dark-haired man with interest.

Viktor shifted a fraction, belying his discomfort at being asked that. "I... uh.." he struggled to respond, unsure of what answer his leader was looking for, and he furrowed his brow as a result.

Sensing his uncertainty, the man in the suit gave a small smile. "It's okay, Viktor. I know you are loyal, this is not a test. But please, indulge me... you may answer freely without any repercussions."

Nodding, Viktor thought some more and a few patient sips of scotch later, the man finally gave him a proper answer. "I believe in the cause, sir, because I believe in you. I believe that you know what is best for us, that you alone can lead us to the future we need and deserve."

"I guess I should say that's a good answer." A light chuckle and a smile followed that statement from the man in the suit. "Now, do you know why _I_ believe in our cause?"

Viktor shook his head, failing to see where this was going.

"I believe in our cause, Viktor, because I see the future that mankind, our people, is running towards," said the man in the suit in a grave tone, "And it is a dark one. Rampant corruption and struggles for power plague our governments. Corporations pillage and exploit both resources and people. Too many people are oppressed and afraid, many struggling to live in a world that has lost its way."

"The planet that we live on is beginning to fail as we consume more than it can sustain and pollute more than we can clean. In short, this path that humanity now walks on... it leads to our inevitable destruction, Viktor. Our extinction as a species. But _we_ have the opportunity to change that, to alter the path that we are on and bring about a better world. We have a chance to wipe the slate clean and start over."

He paused, drinking in the rest of the scotch and setting the empty glass back on the side table. "While the coming chapter in humanity's history will be dark as the world we've come to know burns painfully to the ground, once the world is cleansed and reborn, F.I.T. will emerge to lead the remnants of humanity to a better and more righteous path. A path that will lead us to greater heights the likes of which we could only envision in our dreams."

He added with conviction, staring straight into the lone gray eye of the man who faithfully followed him, "I believe in our cause, Viktor, because in order for the glorious phoenix to rise anew, it must first burn to ashes. To build a better world, the old one must be cleared away."

Viktor was swept up by his words, as he usually was, and gave a firm nod to indicate that he understood, and that he would do whatever he could to help the man accomplish his vision.

A broad smile, baring perfect white teeth, stretched across the face of the man in the suit. "Well, I think I've said more than enough. The time for speeches has ended. The time to act... is _now_. Tell them to begin, Viktor. It is time to light the fire that will cleanse this world and begin the rebirth of our species."

- **xxxVxxx** -

_Eleven days later..._

The table surface was made entirely of glass, propped up by four rounded metal legs. A big chunk of the center portion of the table was a touchscreen for a giant computer display on which were open multiple files full of written words, pictures, and maps. Other than the area immediately around the table, the rest of the room was dimly lit.

"His name is Cato Fenix, a British billionaire eccentric who built his fortune on pharmaceuticals, technology, and agriculture, though mostly pharma. He started as a boy with a trust fund worth north of a hundred million. Old money. Now his estimate net worth is close to a hundred _billion_ ," said the briefing officer, a petite brunette woman in a fairly standard black and white suit.

She looked to be no older than thirty, with minimal makeup and a serious look to her sharp eyes. "Our spy within the so-called Phoenix Corps says that he is the true leader of the terrorist group, though of course there is very little actual hard evidence to prove that. Particularly since the official leader on paper is an eastern European known only as Viktor," she explained further.

Standing to either side of her around the table were two men. The much older of the two sported an impeccable suit and tie while the younger was in a fitted dark gray shirt, black cargo pants, and matching black combat boots.

"Do we have pictures of Viktor?" asked the younger man. He looked to be in his early thirties. His close-cropped hair, slightly longer at the top, was brownish black like a crude mix of mud and oil. His face had a few lines and was beset with stubble as if he hadn't seen a razor in a few days. Hard amber eyes with dark circles underneath looked out into the world with an intensity that made the woman subconsciously squirm.

The woman shook her head. "Only a few blurry shots taken from high altitude surveillance. Angles aren't very good, but it's the best we've got. No one in the Phoenix Corps ever sees or hears from Cato, of course, but barely anyone interacts with Viktor. Only the lieutenants of each cell report to the man, and they are extremely loyal," she continued.

"Can you pull 'em for me?"

She pulled up the tablet she was holding on to at her side and tapped a few buttons. The display on the table changed to show the images of Viktor that she had mentioned. They were as blurry as she described, but at least gave a rough idea of what the man looked like.

The younger man leaned forward on the table to look at the photos closely. His muscles bulged underneath his shirt. There was a gruffness and confidence about him that signaled that this was a man who had seen much of the hard roughness of the world and survived even in the thick of it.

"What's his background?" he asked, using his hands to enlarge one of the pictures on the table display, making an even bigger, blurrier image.

"We're still trying to piece it together," said the woman. "So far all we know is that he was a mercenary who was heavily involved in several flashpoint incidents all across eastern Europe and the Middle East over the last decade and a half."

"Probably using a different alias than before," remarked the man astutely.

"Most likely," the woman agreed.

"So... what's this all got to do with me?" He looked up at her and then rested his gaze on the older gentleman across the table from him.

"The reason we're briefing you on this is because there's been _a lot_ of activity lately with the Phoenix Corps. Far more chatter and movement than we've seen over the past two years since we started tracking them. From what we can tell, they seem to be gearing up for a major operation." She sighed. "We've been working hard on this, utilizing every asset we have, and unfortunately we barely know anything. Which is why," she glanced to the older gentleman in a suit, "This has become a top priority case, because something big is coming and we have no idea what it is."

"You want me to find out? Poke the bear and see what cave they run to?" The man crossed his arms, his jaw set. He didn't sound all too eager.

"Only a few hours ago, we received the best information we've gotten from all our efforts to date. We're sending you in to infiltrate one of their cells and retrieve a supposedly special package that's being kept there. Whatever this thing is, it's apparently of vital importance to their upcoming operation. We don't exactly know what it is or what it even does, but if we can take it from them that will surely put a big wrench in their plans while also giving us more time and opportunity to figure out what they're up to."

The other man, a graying wrinkled figure with a thick gray-white mustache, finally spoke.

"This is our biggest break yet, Joel." His voice was steady and serious. "Everything about this organization is well choreographed and compartmentalized so far, which makes getting actionable intel damn near impossible. You _must_ retrieve that package _at all costs_ , and deliver it to us intact to give us a chance to counteract their plans. If you can find any additional information from that cell while you're at it, go ahead and take that too, but that is secondary to your main objective of securing the package. Is that clear?"

Joel nodded, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I understand, sir. Package is primary, all else secondary. Failure isn't an option."

"Is it ever?" mused the older man, receiving a humorless grin from the man.

The briefing officer added, "You'll be dropped off by chopper ten miles from the target site to avoid detection. There'll be a ground vehicle at the LZ. Extraction will be at the same spot if possible. We don't have much intel on security on the ground, but we'll give you the latest satellite scans while you're en route. At the very least, expect it to be heavily guarded considering how valuable the package seems to be. We'll have a couple of fireteams at the ready to back you up in case things get too hot, but try and keep that as a last resort. Keep a low profile for as long as possible. We'd rather not give them a heads up that we're onto them."

"Got it."

"You're one of the best operatives we've had in years, Joel. I do have faith in you, but still, do _not_ fuck this up," said the older gentleman, giving him a stern look. "We've only got one shot at this."

Joel shot a halfhearted glare back at him. "I'll get it done, chief. Like I always do."

"Right. Your flight to London leaves in an hour. Good luck, Joel," said the older gentleman dismissively.

Getting the hint, Joel left the briefing room located deep in the bowels of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) headquarters in Langley, Virginia and made his way through the many halls and elevators to the surface.

Getting into the Agency car that would take him to the private airfield from where he would be leaving on his mission, he took out his personal smartphone. He had a few calls to make before he left.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Her dad had woken her up a little after sunrise that morning, telling her to pack for a short last-minute stay at her uncle Tommy's place, much to her confusion and surprise. She asked him what the occasion was but he didn't answer and he didn't seem to be in a talkative mood all the way to the airport.

Once there he checked her in for her flight and handed her over to the care of an airline representative, since Sarah was still too young to travel alone and was considered an "unaccompanied minor". He quickly left after that, telling her that he loved and that he was sorry, but promising to call when he could.

Sarah knew that her dad worked for some government contractor or something or other, but beyond that she didn't know what he actually did for his job. Whatever it was, it involved a _lot_ of travel. Most of the time it was only for short periods, but sometimes he would be gone for weeks and she'd be forced to stay with one of their neighbors if it was the school year, or at her uncle Tommy's if it was summer or holiday break.

She imagined him as some kind of super spy, especially because of all the travel and how vague he was when she asked him about his actual responsibilities at work. Whenever she pressed him, and she had several times over, he would always give her the same response: that he was only a paper-pushing desk worker for the State Department. She vaguely remembered him saying he was a Cultural Attaché, whatever the hell that meant.

She didn't believe him, or at least not fully. Not that she would ever think to call her father a liar. He was many things, but a liar was not one of them. He had promised, after all, to tell her the truth. Always. And she trusted him to never break that, but she was also wise enough to know that promising to tell the truth didn't necessarily mean he would tell her the _whole_ truth, and she figured that this Attaché position was only partially true.

He was on trips far too often for a desk worker, in her opinion, and he more often than not came back from those trips with all manner of bruises, cuts, and scrapes. Injuries that he tried his darnedest to hide from her, and that she pretended not to notice, because believing him a super spy dad was far more awesome than thinking he might be getting into stupid bar fights or something.

Oh, and there was also the fact that her dad happened to make a decent amount of money as an Attaché, enough to buy them a beautiful two-story, three bedroom house in a nice neighborhood in the suburbs of the nation's capital, Washington, D.C.

It was definitely an upgrade from the cozy two bedroom house they first had in Texas, although she missed the countryside and found the suburban life to be so strange and different.

The airport wasn't too crowded so early on a Tuesday morning, with only a handful of people around waiting at her gate. Sarah was sitting close to the gate half-asleep when she received the call from her dad. She jolted when the phone vibrated in her pocket, and she quickly fished it out. Very few people called her, so she immediately knew who it was.

"Dad?" she said tentatively. Either it was her dad, or it was her uncle Tommy.

"Hey baby girl. You at the gate yet?" asked the voice of her father through the phone, and she smiled.

"Yeah, I'm here," she said, yawning, "Kinda hungry."

"Honey, I gave you more than enough spending money to go buy yourself some breakfast, and you're way too skinny to be on a diet or anythin'. You've got some time to eat before your flight so please get some grub before Tommy accuses me of not feeding you."

"Yeah, yeah, dad, I know. I'm twelve. I can take care of myself," she replied dryly.

Her father snorted, "Okay. Remind me again why you're traveling with airline personnel escorting you around everywhere like a little puppy?"

"Hey! It's not my fault the airlines have that policy. And besides, I'm pretty sure it's a law too so that's definitely not my fault or nothin'." She tucked her legs up against her chest, heels resting on the edge of the seat that wasn't quite comfortable. "And aw, I love puppies! Is that why you're going on this ' _business trip_ '? Are you going to surprise me with a puppy when I get home?!" The excitement in her voice was palpable.

"What? No, honey, that's not why..." Her father sighed, realizing that she had been joking, and she couldn't help but giggle.

Well, half-joking really, because what if he had said yes? There was always a chance he'd say yes, or at least she hoped there was a chance. She'd been casually bringing it up for a few months now, the idea of getting a puppy. No dice so far.

"Gotcha!" She giggled some more.

"Very funny."

"So when _are_ we going to get a puppy? I'm old enough, you know," she said a little more seriously.

Another sigh sounded from the other end of the phone. "Look, honey, maybe we'll talk about it some more when I get back. But only if you don't bring it up until I do, understand?"

"Yay!" Sarah jumped in her chair and cried loudly enough that a few people glanced in her direction. "It's a promise, then. You can't back out now!"

Her father chuckled on the other end of the call. "Sure, baby girl."

"Sooo... are you going to tell me what this whole deal is?" she asked hopefully.

Impromptu trips for him rarely happened like this, because even though he traveled a lot there was usually advanced warning and he could arrange either a babysitter or their neighbors to take care of her. Sometimes she even got to stay at her uncle's down in Texas.

"Oh just a last-minute business trip like I said, honey. Something... unexpected came up that they're asking me to take a look at in-person," he explained as vaguely as she was used to hearing. "I should be back in a few days at most, and when I do I'll go straight to meet you at uncle Tommy's."

"Where are you going then?" she asked innocently enough.

There was a pause and then, "Europe," came the unspecific reply. He clearly did not want her to know exactly where, not that it bothered her. She was used to it. All the more reason she thought he must be some kind of spy or something. _So_ cool! And dangerous.

"Please be careful, dad," she implored in her most serious tone of the conversation yet.

"Always." Her father said it with a firm confidence that alleviated some of her sudden worry.

"So Europe, huh? Sounds fancy," she said to change the subject.

He laughed. "Yeah, they've got me in first class and everything. Champagne and cavi-whatever it's called. Really pampering your old man up good," he said jokingly.

"I wish I was in first class," she mumbled with a tinge of jealousy, thinking that even if he wasn't first class, he was probably in business class since this was a business trip. Far better than her economy class seat. Plus he was going to Europe! She'd never been to Europe.

"Well, if you help pay for it, I'll split you the fare fifty-fifty for first class some day," said her dad with a hint of amusement.

"Ummm... I was thinking more like... ninety-ten. Ninety percent you, ten percent me, you know?" she countered, a big smile on her face that she wished he could see.

"You're a terrible negotiator," he dead-panned.

"But I'm also your one and _only_ daughter, the best to ever do it, so that's got to count for something right?"

Another chuckle. Then, "Well, since you're my favorite... I could be convinced to go sixty-forty."

"Seventy-thirty?"

"Don't push your luck," he growled with good humor.

She giggled. Then her expression changed completely as she quietly put a hand to her face, shaking her head for being so stupid. "Oh shit!"

"Language," her dad warned seriously.

"Sorry," she said meekly, "But I almost forgot... Happy birthday, dad!"

In the sudden and groggy rush that they were in earlier that morning, she had forgotten that it was her father's birthday. The birthday card that she had made for him was still sitting atop her dresser, and she had worked hard to draw and design the darn thing herself too.

"Huh. That's today, ain't it?"

"Yup! Sorry I forgot to greet you earlier."

"I forgot it was my birthday too so it's alright, honey," her dad said truthfully. "And thank you."

Sarah couldn't resist teasing him. "That's what happens when you get as ancient as you are."

"Hey now," he said with a chuckle.

"I got you a present and everything too..." she pouted.

"You got me a present?" he asked dubiously.

"Yeah. You'll have to wait 'til we're both back home to see it though. I ain't tellin' you what it is now, so don't ask!"

Her father snorted humorously. "Where'd you even get the money for a present?"

"Drugs," she deadpanned. "I sell hardcore drugs."

"Well good," he replied evenly, "You can start helpin' out with the mortgage then."

"Tch. You wish!" She giggled.

"Anyway, I gotta go kiddo. You behave yourself, you hear? Say hi to Tommy for me."

"I always behave myself!" she said, eliciting another snort from her dad, much to her own amusement. "Love ya! Have a safe trip!"

"You too. Love you, baby girl," he said and then hung up.

Rubbing her eyes and yawning once again, she stood up and gathered her backpack and her baby blue gym bag full of clothes. Stomach growling, she set off to get some breakfast at one of the airport eateries. Hopefully the airline representative, who was currently busy talking with one of her co-workers at the gate counter and not paying her much attention, wouldn't mind her skipping off on her own for a bit.

- **xxxVxxx** -

"Thanks again for doing this, Tommy, and I'm real sorry for the short notice," Joel said on the phone as the vehicle he was in rolled into the private airstrip, passing through a heavily guarded gate. One of the M4 carbine-wielding guards saluted them as they drove through, watching them from behind silver reflective sunglasses.

"Anytime, big bro. And don't you worry about it, you and Sarah are always welcome to drop by. Anytime at all. You know that," replied his younger brother Tommy.

Joel did, in fact, know that. It was why he had bought the tickets and only told his brother about it while he was taking Sarah to the airport.

"Yeah, I know. I can still say thank you for it though," Joel said. "By the way, I'd prefer it if you kept her away from your construction sites... and power tools. Please."

Tommy had a newly established contracting and construction business. It was only a small operation at the moment. From what he was hearing from his little brother, he was apparently doing well and keeping busy with several projects he managed to wrangle out of some old contacts and friends. He always was more of a people person.

A short laugh sounded over the phone. "You know I'll take good care of my niece. Besides, she's tougher than she looks, and it would be kinda nice to have a little helper around."

"Tommy..." growled Joel.

"I'm just messin' with ya, Joel."

Joel could practically feel the big grin on Tommy's face through the phone.

"Okay then. Well, I'm boarding my flight already so I gotta go," Joel responded as the black sedan he was riding in entered the hangar containing the private jet that he would be taking to London. "Please shoot me a text when you've picked her up, okay? My number should still work even though I'm overseas. I got that roamin' thing."

"Got it. You have a safe trip and I'll see ya soon, ya hear?" said his brother before they ended the call.

Joel thanked the driver, got out of the car, and walked the twenty or so odd feet to the only plane parked in the hangar. He quickly made his way up the small set of stairs set and into the main cabin. Greeting the handful of other Agency personnel with a nod, as well as the lone steward on board, Joel took a seat in the back and buckled himself in.

It didn't take him long after closing his eyes to get some sleep as he felt the engines whine to life and the plane lurch forwards, getting ready to taxi for takeoff now that he was on board.

Five solid hours of sleep later, broken up only once by a need to pee mid-flight, and he was woken up by the shuddering of the plane as it touched down somewhere in the United Kingdom. With a mighty roar of its engines as it reversed thrust, the plane slowed slowed its momentum down the runway.

Not long after, the plane came to a rest inside another nondescript hangar on a private airfield owned by the Agency, only a couple of hours away from London.

Checking his phone, Joel noted that Tommy had texted him and he opened the short message that said his brother had picked up Sarah with no issues and that he hoped his flight was a good one. He replied with a simple, " _Good, thanks_."

He took out his Agency-issued phone and accessed his secure inbox, finding several new messages had been sent to him that included pertinent information for his upcoming mission. He'd be sure to go over it thoroughly while en route.

Stepping off the plane last after the other agents who he had flown along with, he saw that there was one person in the hangar waiting patiently for him.

"Good evening, Agent Graves, and welcome to London," greeted a uniformed agent at the bottom of the plane's steps, his British accent crisp. He was young, maybe only a few years out of college, and his light blue eyes were full of excitement and interest as they stared at him.

"Hey," Joel grunted, stretching to relieve the stiffness from sitting down for too long. The seats on the plane were nice and reclining, but it still didn't beat a good old-fashioned bed.

"So where can I get outfitted?" he said loudly over the whine of the engines. Thankfully, they began to wind down almost immediately after he spoke and the noise level decreased gradually.

"If you'll follow me, please." The agent led him out a side door and in between a few other hangars before going into a two-story brick building. A few more hallways and one staircase up later, and he was brought to a room with racks full of various military-grade combat equipment.

"Grab whatever you need, sir. If you think you need something that we don't have in here, just let me know. I'll be right outside," the young agent informed him. "When you're ready I'll take you to your transport."

With that said, Joel was left alone in what could only be described as a small but very well-stocked armory. He walked around once to see what exactly was available and was happy with the variety of selections, though he would of course not be able to bring all of them. His gaze drifted over to some of the heavier-duty equipment and he wished he could bring some along, but it was far too bulky, too noisy, and too destructive for an infiltration and retrieval mission.

He always had his personal weapon with him, a concealed carry King Cobra .357 revolver hanging off of a left shoulder holster. While the revolver also worked at close quarters combat (CQC), he had a combat knife hidden horizontally across his lower back that he could unsheathe easily by simply reaching back behind him to grab the handle if he ever needed to get _really_ close and personal.

He grabbed a second pistol holster that he attached on his right hip, taking a 9mm pistol with a silencer and several magazines for it. In case he needed it, he strapped a slightly smaller, but no less sharp, secondary knife to his lower right calf too.

Grabbing a Kevlar vest from a rack full of them, he donned it, making sure it was snug against his body. It never hurt hurt to bring a little armor along. Finally, he grabbed a special forces favorite: the MP-5 Heckler and Koch sub-machine gun, also equipped with a silencer.

Compact and with decent ammo capacity, the MP-5 fired 9mm rounds accurately and at a healthy rate. For extra firepower in case shit hit the fan, and it more often did than not, he slung a pump-action 12 gauge across his back, loading it up with the maximum six shells and taking along an extra twelve. He also swiped a few grenades of the explosive and smoke variety, just in case.

Satisfied, he looked around one more time, double-checked all his gear to see if they were in working order, and then stepped out into the hallway where the agent was standing around waiting.

"I'm all set," he told the agent, who looked him over once and gave a nod.

"If you'll please follow me, sir."

The pitch black helicopter started up as soon as the pilots saw them approaching, the engine whining to life as the massive rotor blades swung through the air faster and faster with each passing second. Two men decked out in combat gear and assault rifles stood by the open door as the agent brought him over.

"Agent Graves, these are corporals Rooney and Hunter. Military, but they work for us at SIS. They'll be accompanying you on this mission," informed the agent, causing Joel to frown.

"I work best solo," he said matter-of-factly, not hiding his annoyance. They would only slow him down, he thought. And he was never informed that he would be accompanied by anyone.

"Agency orders, sir," the agent shrugged, apologetic.

Sighing, Joel rubbed the stubble on his chin and gave the man a look of understanding before scrutinizing the two men who were going with him. He hoped they would be competent enough to not get in his way, or even better that they would actually be helpful.

"Alright, let's move out," he said loud enough for them to hear and they both nodded, letting him get on first before following. Joel waved in thanks to the agent who gave him a thumbs up before quickly moving away to a safer distance.

Leaning forward towards the cockpit, Joel tapped the pilot's right shoulder to indicate that they were ready to go. A moment later and the helicopter was off the ground and flying low into the night.

- **xxxVxxx** -

There were two of them. Both in urban camouflage fatigues and on patrol along the long fence that encircled several warehouses by a wide river.

" _Listen!_ " hissed one of the men. "Did you hear that?" He raised his AK-47, the beam of light from the flashlight attached to the weapon plowing ahead into the darkness beyond the fence.

The second man strained to listen, but heard nothing after a while. He glared at the other man. "You're hearing things. Shut up and let's get this patrol over with so we can get some dinner. I'm starving," he said with annoyance as he continued to walk ahead of his partner.

After a few more seconds of peering into the empty darkness, the first man shook his head and followed after him. They continued on for a little while before reaching the far corner of the high fence, barbed wire running along above the entire length of it.

They didn't get a chance to turn around and continue their patrol as two figures quietly ran up to them and grabbed them from behind in an almost synchronized fashion, slashing their throats quickly and efficiently with knives and leaving them on the ground to die quietly gurgling on their own blood.

Joel nodded to the other man who had helped him out as he wiped his dagger on one of the fallen men. The operative's name was Hunter, he recalled.

The two British operatives he was assigned were politely quiet and thankfully skilled, respecting his lead and obeying his orders with minimal discussion. And when they did speak, it was only to clarify. He was pretty happy with their behavior so far.

Rooney, the other operative who was equipped with a big sniper rifle, was off somewhere finding a suitable perch from where he could cover them. Sure enough, a whisper came from their earpiece radios.

"In position. I see you," Rooney called in.

Hunter raised a hand and gave a thumbs up to Rooney, hidden somewhere in the dark of night beyond the compound.

According to thermal satellite imaging sent to Joel, there were about three dozen enemy contacts in and around the warehouses. More were elsewhere in the compound. That was a lot for a three-man squad to handle, so they wanted to prevent a full on fight for as long as possible.

The chances for a perfect infiltration were slim, but Joel hoped that they could pull it off.

Motioning forward, Joel led Hunter along as they moved between the shadows, hiding behind crates, dumpsters, and whatever else they could find. When they made it to the first and closest warehouse, they pressed their shoulders into the outer wall as they moved slowly around.

Intel had no idea which of the three warehouses the package was in, so they would have to search each one themselves and hope they found it sooner rather than later. Because later probably meant a lot more fighting than they wanted to handle.

Another man on patrol walked close by to where they were hiding, humming softly to himself as he rested a double-barrel shotgun over his shoulder. He went down quickly and quietly to Hunter's knife and was dragged behind some crates, with Joel watching approvingly.

Moving towards a back corner of the warehouse where he had spotted a half-open window, Joel motioned for them to climb through it and into the warehouse. The Brit followed him closely.

Peering over the window sill, Joel noted that it was looked like an office and was currently dark and empty. He signaled to Hunter that it was all clear before pushing it open all the way and quietly jumping through it, his boots landing with a slight thud on the hard cement floor.

Joel still had his knife out, preferring to use as many silent take downs as he could get with it before resorting to firing his guns. Even though their weapons were equipped with silencers, the guns were still loud enough to attract attention when fired, particularly in an enclosed space like this where the sound would undoubtedly echo too.

He stepped further into the room and heard Hunter make his way through the window without trouble as well.

As they reached the door to the office, it suddenly opened and Joel reacted quickly by grabing the figure who was walking through, throwing him to the ground as the man let out a surprised yelp and then a grunt of pain as his back and head hit the cement floor. The man looked up at him with fearful eyes as the knife was pressed against his throat.

"You scream, and I cut your throat," Joel growled and the man nodded slowly, eyes wide.

Hunter quickly shut the door and stayed off to the side, assault rifle at the ready and pointed at the door, but he was undoubtedly also eyeing their interaction from the corner of his eye. Just in case something happened and Joel lost control of the situation, not that he would.

"Where's the package?" asked Joel in a low voice.

"W-what package?" the man said. Either he didn't know, or he was playing dumb.

Joel pressed the knife harder against the man's throat, drawing blood and making his eyes go even wider, the man taking in a sharp intake of breath as the cut began to sting.

"I d-don't know what package y-your talking about," he stammered fearfully, and Joel took a second to look into his eyes and believed him. He figured this man didn't know it specifically as a "package," whatever it actually was.

"Let me rephrase that," Joel said evenly, "There's something very valuable in this compound that you guys are guarding heavily. I want to know what it is and where it is, and you're going to tell me."

A look of recognition crossed into the man's eyes and he nodded slowly. "I think... I-I don't actually k-know what it is, but w-warehouse three had the g-guard doubled a few nights ago. This p-package you're talking about... it must be there!"

"Which one is warehouse three?" he asked, pressed up a little more.

The man began to shake, taking quick and shallow breaths. "It's the last one at the end. The f-farthest one! Please, that's all I know! Please don't ki-"

Joel slashed his throat, blood spewing out immediately as the man began to choke and gargle on his own blood. There was a time when he probably would have let the man live, but that was before the last time he did such an act bit him in the ass because the man ended up reporting in after getting only knocked out.

That caused a shit storm to erupt during his mission. He was lucky enough to have made it out, but several Agency operatives went down in the process. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Hunter seemed to give him a strange look but the man remained silent.

Joel whispered into their comm radio, "Package is in the farthest warehouse. Make sure you've got good sight lines for it. We're probably going to need you."

"Copy that. Moving now," replied Rooney after a few seconds.

"Alright Hunter, let's go get that package."

Now that this warehouse was effectively useless to him, and not wanting to spend precious time searching around for any additional information, Joel jumped back out of the window, boots crunching asphalt as he moved to the edge of the corner and snuck a peek around.

Another two man patrol was heading their way and he communicated as much to Hunter via hand signals.

The guards walked by at a relaxed pace without noticing the two figures crouched low against the warehouse, who immediately crept up behind them and took them out as well. The body count was rising steadily, and while that meant more chances of them being discovered if someone happened to see the bodies, the way Joel saw it, it was better to take them out before the real fighting began in order to lessen the number of enemies they'd have to deal with.

Of course, that all hinged on their being discovered and the alarm being raised. And he had a strong suspicion they were going to have to fight their way out of this place.

Staying low to the ground and against the wall in the shadow of the second warehouse, Joel observed the third warehouse that the man had singled out. It was a little farther from the first two, with a wide open space in between it and the second warehouse. The only thing between were a couple of lamp posts, which made poor cover.

It was going to be difficult to approach without being spotted since there was a lot of ground to cover. Two soldiers stood on a catwalk that hugged around the top edge of the third warehouse, rifles in their hands. They were busy talking to each other, thankfully, and were therefore distracted.

Four more guarded the giant warehouse door with another two by the smaller side door. They all had either sub-machine guns or AK-47's, and it looked like they weren't moving for a while.

Joel cursed as there was no other way to sneak around without being seen, which meant stealth was out of the window now. They would have to go in, guns blazing, and hopefully retrieve the package before reinforcements came.

Joel reasoned that if they retrieved the package and had to fight their way out, the bright side would be that if it was really _that_ important to them, the enemies wouldn't dare use any explosives or heavy ordnance so as not to damage it. That thought gave him little comfort

He turned to Hunter and whispered, "We're going in hot from here on out. Make your shots count, we'll be wide open running across."

Hunter nodded affirmatively, "I've got your back, sir."

"Rooney. You have eyes on the last warehouse?" he asked through the radio. Hopefully the sniper could help them get to the warehouse easier by providing cover, or at least causing panic in their ranks that he and Hunter could exploit.

The response came a second later. "Sir, I've only got eyes on the rooftop guys and maybe one of the men on the ground by the warehouse. Can't get a much better vantage point than this, unless you can wait another few minutes."

"That's good enough for me. On my mark, take out the rooftop guards." He pointed to the two guards by the side door. "Hunter, when I give the signal you go rush to take those guys out first. I'll run around and engage the four by the big door. Once you take your targets down, we sprint like hell towards the side door and get inside."

Hunter nodded to indicate that he understood.

Joel continued. "I'd imagine there'll be reinforcements coming towards the gunfire and we don't want to get caught out in the open like this, so we find and secure the package and then assess the best way out after that." He figured that at least inside they could make a better stand, should they have no route of escape.

"Understood, sir."

Hunter hugged his assault rifle closer and moved off to his side, crouching tensely as Joel turned back and eyed the four guards standing in a circle in front of the big garage door. He figured he'd be able to take them all out with one clip if he ran at least thirty more feet forward and to the right and pressed against one of the lamp posts, but he had to make sure his shots were accurate.

Getting even closer might be the only way to truly finish them off, but he was confident that could at least injure them from the spot he was planning to run towards.

He took a long breath, glanced at Hunter, and then spoke into his ear comm.

"Mark."

One of the rooftop guards was knocked into the railing of the catwalk, his chest erupting with blood. The echoing sound of a shot followed soon after, shattering the silence of the evening. The second guard on the catwalk jumped back, startled at the sight of the man going down so abruptly before him. Before he could do anything else, a chunk of his head exploded in a spray of flesh and bone, followed no more than a half second later by yet another booming gunshot.

Joel moved, and couldn't help but feel more than impressed with Rooney's marksmanship.

Down below, the group of four guards had also jumped at the sharp sounds and the sudden demise of their fellows. By the time the second shot rang out, Joel had already sprinted to the spot he had picked out, inhaled a deep breath and, holding it, aimed down the sights of the MP-5 towards the group of four men.

Joel pressed his finger on the trigger a second after Hunter opened fire on his own targets somewhere to his left.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Viktor knocked on the heavy wooden door that led into the bedroom. "Sir, it's starting," he called out loud enough to be heard through the door.

"Give me a moment," replied the muffled voice of Cato Fenix from the room beyond.

Viktor leaned against the wall beside the door and patiently waited as instructed.

A few minutes later and the door opened with Cato stepping out wearing another one of his expensive tailor-made suits. He flashed an eager smile at Viktor, eyes alight with excitement and anticipation. "Lead the way," the man said.

They traveled through the interior of the compound, passing by several men outfitted in black uniforms and carrying assault rifles, and entered a large room with a few computer terminals and several couches and chairs. All of this was positioned in front of a wall full of flatscreen TV's, each one tuned to a different news channel from around the world.

A few of them were covering an outbreak of some mysterious illness that had already tens of thousands, with that number climbing by the minute. Emergency services, and in particular healthcare systems around the world, were already beginning to strain under the pressure.

Most weren't equipped to handle such a deadly and unknown virus, let alone the sheer number of patients afflicted with it. To make matters worse, the medical facilities that were handling the infected were so overwhelmed that they were getting their own staff infected, further reducing the supply of medical professionals in a constant negative feedback loop.

Some of the people who were already in the room stood up respectfully as they saw the two men enter, and a careless wave from Cato and a nod from Viktor made them return to their seats, the men's eyes returning to their respective screens.

Cato took a seat in the middle couch of a set of three, with Viktor preferring to stand behind him and clasping his hands together behind his back as he stood in parade rest.

"Where are the first reports coming from?" Cato asked the room, though in truth nobody but Viktor dared to speak to him unless directly spoken to, so it was Viktor who responded. Viktor was technically their official leader, but everyone knew who was really in charge here.

"Brazil, Mexico, India, and China were the first to report a growing mysterious disease problem. They are also the countries we've specifically targeted for maximum impact due to their massive populations, relatively lackluster healthcare systems, and highly dense residential areas. There is already mounting unrest in many of the first infected areas as the military forces of those countries are being forced into mobilization," Viktor informed him clinically, his accent present but moderate enough to be understood well enough.

Cato hummed pleasantly, a sliver of a smile playing on his thin lips.

"Russia and much of northern Africa are just beginning to report the outbreak now," Viktor continued, "It is only a matter of time before the Americas and much of Europe are afflicted as well, sir."

Leaning back and sighing with satisfaction, Cato observed the myriad of digital screens with what looked to be joy. "Well, it appears to be time then. Send out the official lockdown order to all our people worldwide and commence our own."

Viktor moved around to one of the men stationed at a computer and repeated the order with a bit more specific detail, and the man's fingers flew across his keyboard as he sent the message out to the rest of their global organization. Directing one of the other men to start the compound lock down, Viktor was pleased when the sounds of heavy machinery and gears whining and grinding rumbled through the structure started and finished without any issues.

"Oh, and Viktor? Do get us some champagne while you're at it," Cato added with a grin, "I do believe a celebration is in order while we watch this tainted world burn."


	2. Extraction

Tommy Graves let out an impressed whistle as he watched his niece kick yet another soccer ball into the open net. While kicking the ball into an undefended net was admittedly not anything to write home about, this time she managed to get it into the upper left corner, the ball curving slightly in the air as it flew towards the goal.

The girl had some talent that was for sure, and he was happy that she enjoyed the sport enough to ask him if she could go and practice at a nearby park. With the weather so nice out, he couldn't possibly say no, and so off they went.

From what his older brother Joel had told him, Sarah had taken to the sport real well ever since moving to the northern Virginia suburbs of Washington D.C. And it helped a lot with her adjustment to their new life over there thanks to her teammates becoming her first friends.

Neither he nor Joel were any good at soccer at all, having no interest in it in their younger years. The two brothers had played football instead, what they considered to be the "real" kind of football that is. They grew up throwing the pigskin around like any red-blooded American worth their salt, whether out on the street, at the park, or in the backyard. And of course, there was football at school.

A big reason for their love of the sport, other than enjoying playing it, was because football – the American kind – was king in Texas. Entire towns in Texas revolved around High School football in particular, with some of their facilities rivaling that of actual Universities, and the Graves brothers grew up in that environment. After football, there was baseball and basketball, with soccer a distant fourth in popularity among the major sports.

Now that his niece played soccer – what the rest of the world called football – Tommy and his brother of course finally began to show their own interest in it for the girl's sake. Tommy in particular was hoping to see the girl play an actual game one of these days. Whenever he could find the time to travel up from Texas and visit them in Virginia for once, for the time being having to settle for the photos and handful of videos that Joel would occasionally send to him.

Exactly when Tommy would get to do that, he had no idea. Work kept him tied down in Texas these days, and it was difficult to find enough time, and money, to visit them. At least Joel traveled down with Sarah every now and again to see him in Texas, and those visits were always welcome to Tommy since they were the only family he had left. It had been a few months now since the last time he had seen his brother face-to-face, now that he thought about it.

He envied his brother's frequent traveling all over the world. Admittedly, most of that travel was work-related, and his brother spent a lot more time than he would like away from his little girl, but Joel made a very good living and was very lucky that he got to see more of the world through travel. Even if it was for work.

Unfortunately, that was not a lifestyle Tommy could afford, both financially and time-wise. At least not right now.

Having worked for a construction company for some time, he had only recently started his own venture into the thankfully once-again-growing construction and contracting business in the area. It helped that there weren't a lot of contractor options available in the area to begin with, what with the recent downturn forcing people to close shop.

Since Tommy was a local boy, he received a lot more trust from the people in the area compared to some of his competitors, and he always did his best. He was always honest with them too, unlike some of his competitors. Though it of course didn't hurt that he offered cheaper prices for on par, and sometimes even better, work than most.

Business was definitely doing very well these days, but that meant he was extremely busy with multiple projects and barely had enough time to eat and sleep while trying to work on all of them. Soon enough, he figured he'd need to hire someone to help him with the administrative aspects of the company.

For the first time in a while though, he had taken a day off, trusting his work crews to manage without him for once since he wanted to spend this unexpected but certainly welcome time with his beloved niece. And while he appreciated the chance for himself to relax and take it easy for a day, he was absolutely thrilled that he was able to spend some quality time with the one other person in the world that he loved as much, if not more so, than his older brother.

The short-haired blonde twelve-year old in question ran off the pitch and came up to him as he was sitting on the bleachers where he had been observing her practice. She had a soccer ball tucked under her arm, one of three that Tommy had bought and kept at his house just for her, and was sweating up a storm from kicking the ball around for the last hour or so in the rising heat of the early morning.

Her gray eyes were alight with youthful energy, and he couldn't help but feel energetic too at the sight of them.

"Uncle Tommy!" she said his name with a big smile. "Did you see that last goal? Did you see it? Man, I looked like Messi out there, didn't I? Or Alex Morgan! I sure as heck felt like 'em." Her enthusiasm was palpable and Tommy couldn't help but feel joy that she was having such a good time.

"Yeah, you did look pretty messy there. Sloppy footwork and all…" he joked, eliciting an immediate mock glare.

"Ha… ha… _very_ funny," said Sarah as she tossed the ball she was holding at her uncle, the ball glancing off the side of his head as he was too close to her and too slow to react to either avoid or catch the thrown ball.

"Ow! That was uncalled for. Red card, ref. Red card!" he cried, acting like he had a major injury to the head as he rolled along the bleachers in mock anguish like one of those professional soccer players he'd seen on television.

"That's what you get for dissing my mad soccer skills!" Sarah joked as she went to retrieve the ball, which had rolled off down the other end of the bleachers.

"Gosh, Sarah, when did you get so violent?" he protested after her with a grin as he stopped the act when she returned with the ball in her hands and stuck out her tongue at him.

Tommy chuckled and then checked his watch. "Well, does the soccer superstar want to grab some early dinner? I'm sure the ego is full, but I bet that stomach is a grumblin'," he said as he eyed her with amusement.

Rolling her eyes again, she replied, "Yeah, I guess I'm kinda hungry. Does dinner come with a free massage? This soccer superstar is feelin' a little sore too, ya know."

Tommy snorted as he got to his feet. "You wish it did. But since you're a soccer superstar and all, maybe you can pay for lunch this time around _and_ go get yourself a massage."

"Ha! No way, Jose! Besides, I'm broke anyway..." she trailed off and frowned slightly as she thought of something that seemed to trouble her.

Tommy raised an eyebrow at that, but decided not to ask her about it. "Well, it was worth a shot. Come on now, let's get outta this heat before it fries us and find a good place to eat."

They got into Tommy's pickup truck and drove to a nearby place called the Sunshine Diner. It was like any regular old diner around these parts, a long bar area behind which you could see into the kitchen, bar stools planted directly into the tiled floors that matched the tiles on the walls, and lots of chrome, glass, and plastic everywhere.

A shiny jukebox stood off to one side, playing mostly country music that was at least a decade or so old, though the few patrons and employees present didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

It being early in the evening, there weren't too many people there, not that it got that crowded to begin with, but when they entered there were only two other patrons who sat at opposite ends of the long bar, eating by themselves.

Tommy recognized that one of the patrons was his next-door neighbor, Jimmy. Normally Tommy would have gone up to say hello, but the man looked to be in his own world with a dark air around him, and he decided to steer clear and give the man some space for now.

Sarah slid into a booth by one of the large windows looking out into the parking lot, and Tommy took his place across from her.

A waitress who looked to be well over fifty with wrinkles, sagging skin, and too much makeup, walked up to them and greeted them with a familiar smile, "Hey there, Tommy. Nice to see you again, Sarah, it's been a while. Having an early dinner are we?"

"Hey Janice," Tommy greeted her back. "I'll just have the usual, thanks."

Janice nodded before turning to Sarah. "And you, dear?"

"Hi Janice. I'll have some steak and eggs with a side of hash browns, please!" she said, justifying her choice by adding, "I'm really hungry."

"I'm sure you are, dear," Janice said with a wink before walking around the bar and telling the cook their orders.

Once the waitress was out of earshot, having gone into the kitchen to tell the chefs the orders, Sarah spoke up.

"So uncle Tommy, you think you can come to some of my matches this comin' season? My team is lookin' _real_ good. We might actually make it all the way to the State Championships this year," Sarah said excitedly.

Tommy remembered Joel mentioning something about that, and Tommy decided that if his niece ever did make it to the State Championships, he would definitely be there to attend.

"Well, I ain't sure about match _es..._ but maybe I can figure out a way to see at least one match. However, if I do, you gotta promise me a win though. I ain't flying over there just to see you lose, ya hear?" he teased.

She grinned, reaching a closed fist out to him with her pinky extended. "Challenge accepted. Pinky swear?"

He chuckled and nodded, completing the pinky swear by interlocking his own pinky with hers and they mimicked a handshake. "You should hear the way your dad talks to me about your matches. I've never seen him so excited for _soccer_ , of all things," he said with a laugh and a shake of the head. "No offense, of course," he added.

Sarah beamed, "I'll send you my schedule for the upcoming season as soon as I get it from my coach!"

"Lookin' forward to it."

Then her smile suddenly faded as she gave him a surprisingly serious look. "Hey, uncle Tommy?"

"Yeah, what is it honey?" he asked, stilling his features and curious as to what had her so serious all of a sudden.

"Well, I was wonderin'… and I've been wonderin' for a while now…" Sarah hesitated, looking out through the big window next to them.

"Alright, what's on your mind, superstar?" he asked while looking at her with concern because of the way she was acting. All manner of situations popped up in his head, and some of them he felt would be better addressed by his brother, but thankfully none of those things were what she wanted to talk about.

"Do you know what daddy _actually_ does for a living?"

Tommy sat back, unsure of what to say. He did offer up a silent prayer of thanks that she was not broaching the numerous subjects he would rather not talk about with Sarah. The girl was very perceptive to have figured out something wasn't quite right with her father's job though.

"Well..." He truthfully didn't know what his brother actually did beyond what Joel normally told everyone, which was that he was simply some kind of desk worker for the State Department. Tommy definitely did _not_ buy that story, but he would never accost his brother about it.

The reason he didn't press his brother further was because he respected the man enough to let him have this secret. Joel was often honest and straightforward with practically everything else except his job, and if the man didn't want to share what he truly did for a living, then Tommy figured there must be a good reason for it.

Of course, there was the slight chance he was somehow doing something illegal, but he knew his brother well enough that he wouldn't cross those lines. Breaking the law to make money would mean endangering Sarah in some capacity, and there was no way in hell that Tommy ever saw his older brother do anything to risk Sarah's safety and happiness.

With a slow shake of his head, he looked Sarah straight in the eyes. "Honestly, Sarah, I know about as much as you... That is, I know he works for the government in some capacity. And… well, I trust that whatever he's doing, he's doing it for all the right reasons. So you should too."

- **xxxVxxx** -

"Run!" Joel yelled as he heard the wailing of an alarm and the distant frantic cries of some of the Phoenix Corps soldiers as they were alerted to intruders.

His feet pounded against the hard concrete as he made his way across the remaining distance of open expanse between warehouses two and three. He made a beeline towards the side door that would grant them entry into the third and final warehouse, where they suspected their objective was secured, and Joel moved without a single glance over his shoulder to see whether or not Hunter was following after him.

Taking cover next to the outside of the door and leaning over to open it quickly, he peeked around the wall with his submachine gun out and scanned the interior hallway that it opened into. The coast was clear. Letting out some air, as he had been holding his breath, Joel moved inside and crouched his way down the hall. He heard the door shut firmly as Hunter came in right after him.

"Keep your eyes open. Stay alert. Watch our six," he told his teammate as he went further into the warehouse.

Hunter acknowledged with a quick "Affirmative!" as they made their way carefully through the place.

Joel reached up to his earpiece and toggled the radio to inform Rooney that they were inside. The sniper informed him that there were more enemy soldiers heading for the warehouse, and that he was keeping them at bay for now with potshots. He could hear the distant, and faint now that he was indoors, echo of the sniper's big gun, and was glad for the man's skill.

Rounding a corner, they came face-to-face with a group of three enemy soldiers who were just as surprised as they were to see them. Thankfully, Joel reacted faster than they did and since his gun was already up he took down two of the three before they could do anything, with the third and farthest one able to hide behind the next corner as Joel's bullets went flying.

"Get back," he growled towards Hunter, who was keeping an eye out behind them and trusting Joel to handle the front. Joel pushed his teammate back behind the corner just as bullets pinged in return fire around them.

"Problem?" whispered Hunter, turning his head.

Joel shook his head. "We just don't have fucking time for this," Joel whispered harshly as he reached for a flashbang grenade and flicked the pin off with his thumb. He followed that up with a smooth and strong toss down the hallway in a brief moment of peace between gunshots.

The sound of the grenade clattering and rolling across the floor echoed down the hall, followed by some choice expletives from the enemy soldier who caught sight of it.

Having counted in his head, Joel burst out from behind cover immediately after the grenade went off with a blast, eliciting a cry of pain and shock from his now momentarily blinded target. Moving up the hallway quickly and rounding the next corner, he put a few bullets into the downed opponent without so much as a second glance as he kept moving forward, discarding his empty magazine and slamming in a new one as smoothly and calmly as if this was simply a practice drill at shooting range.

He had long ago learned to steel his nerves, even if he was nervous and afraid, which he usually was. Who wouldn't when faced with the threat of death at every turn on missions like this? But there was no point in giving in to that fear, not when shit had to get done in order to survive and succeed.

They fought and killed a few more soldiers, surprisingly less resistance than they expected, before they proceeded down a hallway that led into a large open space. The main storage area of the warehouse was empty except for two large objects, one of which caught Joel's attention more than the other.

The first item, and the closest to the large hangar door that led outside, was what looked like a shiny new Anti-Personnel Carrier. It was an ugly behemoth of an armored vehicle that he knew would come in handy really soon, and he was starting to feel less worried about exfiltration. Assuming they could even find the keys for it.

"Hunter, we need that APC. That could be our ticket outta this joint," said Joel as they swept the area with their weapons.

"On it," said the Brit as he ran towards the vehicle, presumably to check if the keys were inside. That would be mighty convenient if it was.

Joel's gaze was drawn over to the second rather large item in the warehouse, and this one certainly intrigued him the most.

It was a big old shipping container made of solid steel. It looked beat up, with lots of dings, scratches, and even some rust beginning to show. What intrigued him the most about it though was that it had small windows made of what looked to be reinforced glass, and there were holes in certain areas around the container – small ones, and plenty in number. Air holes.

Whatever was stored inside, it needed light and it needed air, and he was willing to bet a year's salary that the package he was meant to retrieve was in there somewhere. The only question now was what that package really was. Maybe they were growing some kind of toxic plant?

No sound appeared to be coming from within as he approached the container cautiously, his eyes constantly searching for any signs of traps or hidden enemies. There didn't appear to be any. A simple latch mechanism was all that kept the doors closed and he carefully unlatched it, gripping the handle of one of the big doors and tugging mightily against it with his right hand.

His left hand, holding the MP-5 loosely and upright in case he needed to fire quickly, was tensed at his side.

With a heavy groan, the metal door shuddered open out towards him and he stepped back to allow it to swing open some more on its own momentum. Gripping his gun steadily with both hands, he tentatively stepped inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light within, they instantly widened as he caught sight of what lay inside the container.

There was some furniture here. A simple metal twin bed with a thin mattress and dirty sheets, a weathered and beat up little couch, a five-foot tall wooden bookcase filled with books of varying sizes, and a small wooden nightstand next to the bed that had a lamp resting on its surface and a grimy old backpack leaning against it on the floor.

What really shocked him, however, was that sitting at the far end of the container, legs curled up against her, was a young girl who looked to be about his daughter's age.

She had dark red hair that looked more brown than red that was tied back into a ponytail. A few strands of her hair hung down either side of her head, framing her unhealthily pale face.

Covering her evidently scrawny body was a dirty and worn pair of dark blue jeans, and a faded red t-shirt over what looked to be a black long-sleeve shirt that looked filthy.

She looked dirty and disheveled, as if she hadn't seen a bathroom or a washing machine for quite some time. In fact, there was a pungent stench that hung in the air inside the container, suggesting that she had indeed been left there to live in her own filth for at least several days.

And as Joel stood there staring at the girl with stunned silence, she returned his stare with a look so unsettling that he couldn't help but wonder what in the hell they did to this poor girl to have her express such a look of pure hatred and unbridled anger. It made him hesitate long enough for the full realization of what lay before him to finally hit him.

This little girl was the package.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Sarah was able to finish half her food within the first few minutes of the plate being set in front of her, eliciting an amused look from her uncle Tommy and a quip about slowing down so that she could at least take a breath. Due to the speed with which she had started to gobble up her food, she quickly felt too full to finish her plate, so she asked Janice if she could have it boxed up to take home with her.

Glancing at her uncle, who was still eating with quiet contentment, she wondered if he was really telling her the truth that he didn't know about what her father actually did for his job. As far as she could tell, the two brothers basically told each other everything, so it was entirely possible that her uncle was keeping her dad's secrets.

She tried to push it out of her mind. Clearly neither of them were going to tell her so there was no point in worrying over it.

"Do you think dad will let me have a puppy?" Sarah asked randomly, remembering what her dad had said on their phone call before her flight earlier.

Her uncle smiled at the question, obviously glad that the topic had changed and amused by the question itself. "Well, I reckon he wouldn't be too opposed to it. Dogs are the best pets."

Sarah looked thoughtfully at him. "Didn't you guys have a dog when you were growing up?"

Tommy nodded wistfully, "Yeah, you got that right. We had a golden retriever named Pancake, and she was the sweetest and friendliest dog out there." He let out a short laugh as he said the name aloud. It had been a fitting name given how the dog looked.

Sarah grinned. "Well that's a cute name. Was it your idea or dad's?"

"Oh, no, no. It was definitely all your dad's idea. I can't take no credit for it, but I sure as hell agreed. It was a good name for her, and we both love pancakes." He deliberately took a slow and pronounced bite of some of the remaining pieces of pancake on his plate.

She giggled at his antics, her grin widening. "Did you like havin' a golden retriever? Maybe I can get one too, just like you and dad!"

The thought was certainly exciting, and her imagination was already beginning to run wild as she pictured herself running around the house, the neighborhood, and even the park with the golden doggy. It would be so much fun!

Tommy thought for a moment, dipping his head from side-to-side, "Yeah… Pancake was a lot of fun. It wasn't easy taking care of a dog though, I'll tell you that much. I'm sure your dad will want to make sure you can handle taking care of one before getting it, since you're going to be spending the most time with it. You really think you're ready for a dog?"

Sarah nodded immediately and held his gaze as she spoke with confidence. "I sure as hell am!"

Tommy laughed lightly, amused by her enthusiasm and sudden change of mood. "You say that now…"

Her uncle didn't even bother to admonish her for her slightly crass language, unlike her dad who probably would have reminded her to watch her language. Something to do with having to act like a proper southern lady, whatever that meant.

"So you really think he'll let me get one?" she asked excitedly.

Her uncle raised his hands and shrugged. "Don't quote me on it, alright? But… knowing your dad, I have a feeling he just might. You think of what kind of dog you'd like to have?"

"I dunno yet," Sarah said, shrugging, "You two already had a golden retriever before, so that would be neat if I could have one too, but I'll definitely think about it some more now that you've given me your support."

"I did what now?" Tommy asked with an easy laugh.

Sarah was about to respond when the sound of shattering glass and the clinking of metal interrupted their conversation, causing both of them to turn in surprise towards the source of the noise.

"Oh no!" Janice cried from behind the counter, mouth agape as she covered it with a hand.

Jimmy was breathing heavily down on one knee, one hand on the ground and another gripping hard onto a nearby stool, clearly having fallen as he had tried to stand and walk. Water and food were splattered all around him in between the broken pieces of his plate and drinking glass.

"Jesus, Jimmy!" Tommy said with alarm as he got out of the booth and went to help his neighbor.

Sarah watched as the man struggled to get up and Tommy grabbed one of his arms to help him balance himself. His skin was covered with a sheen of sweat and his breathing was labored and ragged. Bloodshot eyes looked out wearily from a tired, pale face.

"You don't look so good, Jimmy…" Tommy said with worry.

"I'll… I'll be fine… just need some rest, really…" Jimmy managed to say, his voice strained and weak.

Tommy wasn't convinced. "I think you should let me take you to the hospital just in ca-"

"No!" the man said adamantly, startling everyone. Then he spoke in a low, pleading tone. "Please… just… just help me get home… I'll be... fine."

Tommy looked to Janice uncertainly and the old woman simply shrugged, basically saying that it was his call. Her uncle turned back to the man who was now leaning heavily on him for support.

"Are you sure? The hospital ain't too far from here, Jimmy," he asked again.

Jimmy slowly nodded. "Home… please... Tommy..." he said again, and the effort was really taking a lot out of him.

"Janice, could you at least get him another glass of water first?" he asked, and the waitress quickly filled one up and handed it to Tommy, who then practically forced his neighbor to drink it all up, the man coughing in between big gulps.

It looked unpleasant, but Sarah knew it was probably for the best that they got him to drink up. Being sick usually meant it was easier to get dehydrated, and dehydration always made illnesses worse.

Janice watched this unfold with a worried expression and finally said, "Maybe you _should_ take him to the hospital, Tommy. I've never seen Jimmy look like this before. He's really sick with _something_." The realization of it mad her instinctively cover her mouth and nose, this time out of fear of getting infected with his illness rather than from feeling surprised.

Sarah had slid out of the booth at that point and was also growing concerned. "What are you going to do, uncle Tommy?"

Tommy sighed as he looked at his friend who was clearly delirious and said, "He's definitely burnin' up," he remarked worriedly. Then his face set as he made a decision. "Alright, we'll take his stubborn ass back to his house like he asked and I'll keep checkin' in on him through the night. If he gets any worse, I'll be sure to bring him straight to the hospital. You hear me, Jimmy?"

Jimmy's head lolled, though it might've been a nod, and the man mumbled something incoherent. They took it as an acknowledgement.

"I think we should take him to the hospital now…" Sarah said slowly, noticing just how badly Jimmy looked.

"The man said he'd be fine and that he wants to be taken home. Like I said, if he gets any worse I'll definitely take him to the hospital immediately."

"Okay then." Sarah was unconvinced but accepted her uncle's decision, trusting that he knew what he was doing.

Janice was already cleaning up the mess the sick man had made, her wrinkled face lined with worry. "Well, alright. But once he gets better you tell him he owes us for this mess, okay hun?"

"You got it," Tommy said as he started to maneuver Jimmy towards the door.

- **xxxVxxx** -

"Sir, enemies are surrounding the warehouse! I can't hold them back much longer, and their starting to zero in on my location!" yelled a voice in his earpiece, shaking Joel out of his surprised and alarmed thoughts.

Thinking quickly as he shook his head to clear his mind, he spoke back into the radio, "Copy that, Rooney. We've got the package. Buy us as much time as you still can! I'll try and get those fireteams to come in and provide some extraction cover."

"Affirmative," came the reply from the sniper.

Reaching a hand up to his ear, Joel pressed a secondary button on the earpiece communications device that allowed him to tap into a different channel – the one that would patch him through to the local Agency field office via satellite. It was a dedicated line set up just for this mission so he didn't have to provide the usual identification protocols.

"This is Agent Joel Graves requesting immediate fire support for extraction. I repeat, requesting immediate fire support for a hot extraction. Package is secured but we're encountering heavy fucking resistance on the way out," he informed whoever was supposed to be listening on the other line.

There was nothing at first, so Joel repeated the request with more urgency, and then a reply finally came, one that was not what he had been expecting. "Agent Graves this is London HQ," came the decidedly British voice on the other end. They sounded grim. "Please be advised, the assets assigned to assist you have been re-purposed due to... extenuating circumstances, and are no longer available to provide support. Can you still manage extraction?"

"Jesus!" he yelled angrily as he slammed his palm into the side of the container, the metal shuddering as the bang echoed within the tight confines. His hand stung from the move, but he didn't pay much attention to it, nor did he notice that the girl had jumped in surprise at his sudden and rather violent action.

Joel practically roared back into the comm, "What the hell do you mean those assets have been fucking re-purposed? Don't you know how important this mission is dammit?!" Then he took a moment to collect himself and calm down a few notches, before speaking again in a more even but no less angry tone. "I thought we were given highest priority on this."

Again there was a delay before a reply. "We're very sorry, Agent Graves, but the situation out here has deteriorated dramatically. It's... chaos out there. All available Agency assets have been redeployed. You're on your own for now, I'm afraid."

For the moment, he did not care what was going on out there. "What about the damn helicopter?" he asked, not surprised if they pulled that one too.

This time the reply came faster. "It's been delayed-"

Not wanting to hear anymore, he yanked the earpiece out and nearly threw it away before stopping himself and simply squeezing it tightly in his hand in anger before replacing it in his ear. He still needed it to communicate with his team at least, switching the channel back to local.

"Hunter, did you find those keys?" he asked through the comm.

Almost as if on cue gunfire suddenly erupted from somewhere inside the warehouse, causing Joel to curse under his breath and hide behind the other container door that was still shut in place.

"Hunter?" he called fiercely into the radio. "Hunter are you there? Report."

There was a long moment of silence and then a reply. "I'm here, sir… got the… got the keys from one of the offices back the way we came… but… I uh... was hit… some of them got the… got the jump on me. But they're dead now." The admission sounded like it was through gritted teeth and Joel couldn't tell if it was because of all the pain the man was feeling or because he was at least somewhat embarrassed about getting surprised.

"God fucking damn it," Joel said aloud before speaking back into the comm, "Are you able to get back out here? I found the package and am in the process of securing it right now." Things were swiftly going from bad to worse, and he felt that if they stayed there any longer they might not get out of there alive at all. Time was ticking.

Another pause. "I'll make it… to the APC, sir." Hunter's voice was strained and in obvious pain, but there was a conviction in it that Joel respected and trusted in. Besides, he had no time to go get him while he still had the package, the girl, to take care of.

He turned back towards the far end of the container, realizing that he might have scared her with all his angry yelling, and noted that the young girl had gotten to her feet and grabbed her backpack, which was now slung over her shoulders. The girl was still glaring at him, but her arms were wrapped around her and she was clutching herself in a manner that belied her unease and fear.

Walking towards her, he made sure his gun was held low and loose to his side as he raised his right hand with palm open out towards her to try and show her that he meant her no harm.

"Hey," he began but was abruptly cut off by the redhead.

"Alright, who are you and what the _fuck_ do you want with me?" she yelled defiantly, her adolescent voice harder than he anticipated it to be, not to mention her language. Not only did she look like she had been through far more than she should have at her age, but she sounded like it too, and his heart sank at that at the same time that his anger stirred.

He stopped about halfway towards her in an attempt to calm her down some more before he approached further, gun still pointed to the ground and hanging loosely in his fingers.

"Look. I don't mean you any harm. My name is Joel," he introduced himself calmly, hoping that his tone and demeanor would help to ease her fears.

"Okay, _Joel_ ," she said his name with skepticism, hard eyes glaring. She clearly didn't believe him. "What the fuck do you want with me? I already told you assholes to go fuck yourselves and to just kill me already like everyone else you fuckers took away."

Quelling his rising disgust at the implications of those words, he replied, "Look, kid. I'm not with these assholes. Honestly. I'm here to help you get out. Now you're either coming willingly or we can do this the hard way." His tone got a little harder at the end, hoping that the girl took the hint.

"Help me? And how exactly are you going to _help_ me, _Joel_?" she asked bitterly, her glare unwavering as it was still directed at him. Her eyes flicked towards his gun a few times, and he started to angle himself in such a way that it wasn't clearly in her view.

"Like I said, I'm here to break you out," he stated simply, taking a few tentative steps forward. "You must've heard me talking on the radio. I'm part of the extraction team that's here to free you. You've gotta believe me, kid."

A look of surprise and, he was not sure but it seemed to him like even hope, passed through her delicate but grimy features before being covered again in a hard mask of anger. She let out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, right. Break me out… And then when I play along you'll just take away my rations again and maybe kick me around for good measure too like you assholes always do for fun. Like I said before, go fuck yourselves and just go ahead and kill me already."

Joel let out a heavy sigh. They had precious little time before their escape window closed to near impossibility, and he really needed to collect her and get the hell out of there. Coming to a decision that discussing any further was a waste of that precious time, he stepped closer to her in an attempt to simply grab her and drag her out forcefully if he had to.

She unfortunately had no plans to cooperate as she jumped at him without warning once he got close enough, and he was just glad that the girl didn't have a weapon of some sort as he was caught somewhat off-guard by her decision to launch her feeble attack.

"Go to hell, motherfucker!" she cried angrily in the air as she landed on him, knocking Joel back a few steps from the collision. She began to come at him, flailing wildly, pounding her small fists into his hard Kevlar armor with little to no effect, though her kicks to his shin did admittedly hurt.

Joel threw his submachine gun towards the door as this was happening, the metal weapon clattering loudly to the floor, and grabbed both the young girl's arms in a vise grip, resulting in a yelp of pain and anger. He raised her up in front of him and she tried to kick and knee at him

"Listen! Listen damn you!" he growled as her ineffectual blows continued to pound against his solid frame. "I'm trying... to help you! Dammit! Stop... fighting!" But she kept hitting him, yelling a few choice words back at him and kicking him again in the shin, causing him to wince. This wasn't working.

"Sorry kid," he said heavily. Without much of a choice and running out of time and patience, he regretfully let one of her arms go just long enough to smack her in the head with enough force to at least daze her. Or at least that's what he had been trying to do.

Instead of simply being dazed however, she was knocked out from the blow and fell heavily to the ground. She was very weak, probably malnourished and with a poor immune system, so he should've expected her to drop like a sack of potatoes with the love tap he gave her.

Looking at her prone figure for a second, Joel felt a pang of guilt for having done that to so young a person, and a girl to boot, but she had given him no other choice. It was for her own good. Picking her up, he gently carried her over his left shoulder as he made for the container doors, stopping to grab his weapon off the floor along the way.

He spotted Hunter over by the APC, leaning heavily against the armored vehicle and clutching his clearly bleeding side. His assault rifle hung from a strap around his neck and right shoulder, with his hands pressing against his wound. A small dark puddle of what Joel could only assume was blood was on the ground underneath him.

"Hunter?" Joel said with grave concern, "How bad is it?"

The man was breathing in nice and slow in an apparent attempt to control himself, his face twisted in pain. He did manage a reply though. "I'm… I'm good, sir. Just… need a little… rest... that's all." Joel looked at him skeptically, and the Brit added, "Nothing... Nothing to worry too much about, sir. Might need... a little patch up... but I'll be right as rain." The words struggled to make it out of his throat, but Joel admired the man's strength of will.

"Alrighty. Let's get the hell outta dodge so we can get you all patched up. Get in the back," Joel said sternly, pushing away thoughts of patching him up now. There would be time enough for that later, when they were clear of the more immediate danger.

Already he could hear shouting coming from the hallways that they had fought their way through to get to where they were. It wouldn't be long now until the enemies were upon them.

Hunter struggled to right himself before trudging around to the open back hatch of the armored vehicle. He held a hand out to Joel, who reached forward and grabbed the keys that dangled from his hand. They were a bit slick, no doubt with the man's blood, but he just wiped it on his pants and carried on.

"It's getting really hot out here, sir. I've started getting some return fire. Some hostiles have managed to enter the warehouse already. Watch out," his earpiece crackled to life right then.

"Copy that. We're coming out now! We managed to secure a ride," he replied without elaborating as he moved quickly into the APC and deposited the girl into one of the seats as gently as he reasonably could given their rush. After strapping her in, he made sure she and Hunter were secure before moving to close the APC back hatch.

"That… the package?" Hunter coughed, who had taken a seat in the middle of the vehicle, and even with his pain-laden voice Joel could tell the man was troubled by the sight of her.

"Yeah. Buckle up, it's gonna get bumpy," he responded simply as he made his way to the front and squeezed through the tight space that led into the driver compartment.

He could hear shouting from outside the APC as several hostiles filtered into the large storage area. They had not yet put two-and-two together that they had hidden inside the APC. They would know soon enough. Placing the key in the ignition, he fired the armored vehicle up and its engine compliantly roared. The sound of it echoed loudly across the empty space as the vehicle shook violently for a couple of seconds from the powerful engine starting.

Gunshots pinged off of the thick armor almost immediately and the dismayed voices of the enemy soldiers were drowned out by the APC's engine. Unless they had heavy explosives, which he was almost certain they didn't have at the moment, there was no way they were piercing the armor with just small arms fire, so Joel wasn't overly concerned about their attacks for now.

After getting himself acquainted with the controls, Joel stared straight ahead at the massive set of steel doors that were still closed. They needed to make it through there. Bullets continued to ping off the armor, and a few managed to thud against the slivers of reinforced, bullet-proof glass that made up the windows.

"Rooney," he said through the comm, "Meet us by the main road. We'll pick you up in an APC."

"An APC?" came the surprised reply.

"Yep."

There was a pause as if Rooney was thinking of asking more questions, before the soldier finally responded with a "Roger that." The Brit was sharp enough to save his questions for later, which was good.

Joel shifted the APC into reverse, noting how close the APC was to the big set of doors. He would need as much speed as he could if he wanted to bust out of here. He stepped on the gas pedal and then heard a couple of satisfying thumps from what he hoped were some enemies who had been behind them as the vehicle started to move, and there was some more gunfire.

Then the APC abruptly came to a halt as he hit something big accompanied by the loud crash of metal hitting metal that was loud enough to cut through the noise of the engine. That was a far as he could go, so shifting gears again he dropped his right foot down heavily on the gas pedal as the vehicle roared like a mighty beast and lurched forward.

- **xxxVxxx** -

"Give me a status report, Viktor." Cato was still on the couch in the command center of the compound, eating some food and sipping on some champagne as he continued to watch the chaos unfolding all over the world through the multitude of television screens in front of him.

"The infection is spreading rapidly, sir, and everything seems to be going according to plan. Even better than projected estimates, actually," replied Viktor, though he sounded less pleased than he should given the good news. withou

Cato smiled. "And the lockdown?"

Viktor cleared his throat before responding, "All facilities have completed lockdown procedures without issue, sir… all except for one, that is. There seems to be… a problem." The man seemed uncertain, which was so out of character that it made Cato stop eating mid-chew and turn his head to fix a critical gaze at the grizzled mercenary.

"Spit it out, then. What's happened?" Cato snapped. He knew plans rarely went smoothly, no matter how well laid out. There were always going to be unexpected kinks that would need to be smoothed out as they were encountered. In fact, would probably be more worried if things went totally according to plan without any issues than if there were some problems.

"The facility where Subject Omega is being kept is under assault by some unknown force. They are working to eliminate the intruders now."

Cato continued to stare at him. On the list of problems that he had been expecting, that was near the bottom. How did they know about her? Was there a mole in the organization? Probably, though they had been so very thorough in their background checks and interviews so it was impressive that someone managed to slip through. And they were high enough along to know about the girl, which was somewhat troubling.

"Do we know who we're dealing with?" asked Cato evenly, his lips pursed into a thin line.

"Not at the moment, sir." Viktor was apologetic. "We're trying to find out now, but with all the chaos..."

Cato nodded slowly. Information-gathering, especially about any potential enemies, would be severely hampered by the chaos wrought by their own hands. No matter. There were only a few organizations who had been sniffing around who could have pulled this off anyway.

"Viktor, do you think they know about her? What she means to us? Specifically, I mean."

The one-eyed mercenary shook his head almost immediately. "I highly doubt it, sir. That information was kept only to a select few, and I vetted them all myself."

"Well clearly _someone_ tipped them off that she is at least important to us in some way," remarked Cato, frowning. Though he supposed it was entirely possible that their enemy launched a random attack and happened to pick a location with arguably their most valuable asset. Possible, but unlikely.

Viktor shifted on his feet. "We're in constant contact with our forces on site. From what I've gathered so far, they've infiltrated the compound, but it's unclear if they have the girl. They're supposed to give me a status update shortly."

"How much progress did our research team have on crafting a cure?" Cato inquired.

"Based on their last report they're very close, sir. They might be able to do it without needing any more of her tissue, which means we might not need her anymore after all."

Cato fixed a glare on his second-in-command and said, "I don't like uncertainty in this matter, Viktor. This cure is essential for us, for the ultimate long-term success of our plan. You need to _fix this_."

"Yes, sir." Viktor made to leave, but Cato spoke again and so he stopped to listen.

"Oh and Viktor, talk to the research team directly and figure out where they are with their work and what their opinion is on the matter, then report back to me immediately."

"Understood, sir," Viktor bowed his head and walked to the far side of the command center, urgently directing the men at the computer terminals again as he took his phone out and started a call.

Cato returned to eating, not quite enjoying the delicious food as much as he had only a moment before. He could feel a slight headache coming on from the sudden worry that filled him, but he tried to force it out of his mind as he reached for the champagne.

His gaze swept across the various monitors. At least Phase One was a smashing success. The potential loss of the girl might be troublesome down the road, but as it was said, if there's a will, there's a way.

And Cato Fenix had a lot of will to spare.

- **xxxVxxx** -

With a thunderous crash and the mother of all jolts that had the occupants within rattled against their harnesses, the APC broke through the main warehouse door in a crescendo of straining and broken steel, running over another enemy who unluckily for him was in the way of the speeding armored vehicle.

More gunshots pinged all around the armor, echoing inside loudly enough to be heard over the roaring of the mighty diesel engine that was being pushed to its limit, the pedal still pressed hard to the floor as Joel fought with the steering wheel.

In truth, Joel hadn't been sure if the APC would be able to accelerate fast enough to barrel through the big main door and he was more than happy with the result as he turned the steering wheel, the thick rubber tires screeching along the concrete and the APC tipping slightly as he moved to avoid crashing into warehouse two.

Setting his sights on the main gate of the compound, he eased up on the accelerator enough to better steer the vehicle. A continuous hail of gunfire peppered the APC as they rumbled down the center of the compound. As long as the enemy didn't use any heavy weapons they would be away and clear without any issue.

A few hostiles crowded in front of the gate and opened fire with their machine guns, but their bullets were as ineffective as the rest and they dove out of the way as the APC crashed through the gates with ease.

Once he was about a half mile away he slammed on the brakes, the heavy vehicle jerking forward as its momentum kept carrying the top half forward while the wheels locked up and slid on the asphalt, leaving dark burn marks.

"Rooney where are you? We're about a two clicks down the main road from the compound. We busted clean through the main gate," he called into the comm as he clambered out of the driver's compartment and into the slightly wider passenger area, leaving the engine still running.

A short glance towards the young girl verified that she was still unconscious and strapped in as he made his way to his wounded teammate, who he found was now unconscious as well. Checking the soldier's pulse, he was thankful that the man's heart was still beating, but it was slow and the man's skin felt cool and wet to the touch, covered as he was in a cold sweat.

Hunter needed medical attention as soon as possible, and Joel only hoped they would be able to get him the necessary help in time. Still, perhaps there was something he could do. He searched the compartment for any first aid kits, and found one stashed away in a small storage compartment near the front. He had just taken it out when Rooney's voice came through the comm.

"I see you... sir. I'm not... that far off." He sounded out of breath.

Joel activated the back hatch and it fully opened with the sound of hydraulics working just as Rooney made it to the main road about a hundred meters out and ran to the APC, the sniper breathing heavily as he entered the vehicle thanks to his really fast hike through the woods.

Shutting the hatch, Joel noted headlights in the distance behind them and cursed. "They're giving chase," he growled with a shake of his head. "Of course they're giving chase."

He moved back towards the front of the vehicle, passing by Rooney who noticed that Hunter was injured and unconscious, slumped forward as he was in his seat and held up only by the safety harnesses strapped across him.

"What happened? Is he…?"

"He's alive," Joel responded with a grim tone that matched the expression of his eyes as he spoke, "But only barely. Here," he pushed the small medical kit into the sniper's hands, "No time to tend to him now, but keep this on you for later. You've gotta take the wheel and get us to the LZ. I'll man the gun."

Rooney was silent but nodded as he moved swiftly and purposefully towards the front and clambered behind the wheel. Within a few seconds the APC roared and was on the move again.

There was a machine gun mounted close to the front of the APC accessible via a hatch on the left side behind the driver's compartment, and Joel made his way to it. Climbing up the small ladder, he twisted open the locks of the hatch and pushed it up and away. Cool autumn air blew in strongly from the outside as they chugged along, the wind pushing against him as he went up far enough to properly use the gun.

Settling himself into a comfortable position and grabbing the mounted .50 caliber machine gun that thankfully had a one-and-a-half-inch thick steel shield plating that would help to protect him from gunfire, Joel was grateful that the gun had a fresh belt of ammunition and it appeared to be in working order.

He pulled back on the slider with a grunt and was locked and loaded. Swiveling around the metal arm that held the machine gun, he pointed the gun towards the rear of the vehicle and waited for the Humvees as they got closer, their lighter frames allowing them to move much faster than the heavy APC.

Three Humvees followed were giving chase, and all three of them had mounted machine guns too, although only one could fire at a time since they were driving in single file. Wanting to get the first shots off, Joel didn't wait any longer and let loose with bursts from the .50 caliber, aiming for the tires.

The lead Humvee began returning fire from their own mounted gun, bullets whizzing by and pinging off of the armor, making Joel feel more like a sitting duck as the seconds ticked away. He tried not to think about it as he concentrated on aiming and shooting.

After several loud exchanges of gunfire between the two vehicles, one of the front tires of the lead Humvee finally exploded. It lurched to the side of the blown tire and was suddenly thrown up and over in the air due to the speed with which it was moving, crashing back down and then tipping and flipping end-over-end in a spectacular tumble down the middle of the road that sent pieces of the vehicle flying in every direction.

The second Humvee, the driver too slow to react, crashed into the first and added to the debris as they were taken out of commission while the third and final Humvee managed to swing around out of the way just barely escaping joining the other two. Unlike in the movies, the crashed Humvees didn't explode.

Joel looked around, trying to determine how far they were from the LZ, but it was too dark and they were moving fast so it was tough to see. They couldn't have been too far though, given how fast they had been driving for the last few minutes now. Yet they were still on the road when they should have turned into the surrounding forest by now.

As if waiting for him to think just that, the APC unexpectedly swerved sharply to the right, the sudden movement surprising Joel as he wasn't ready for it and his body slammed into the side of the open hatch. Grimacing from the pain in his side, he clenched his teeth and let out a low growl as he steadied himself.

The APC was following an overgrown dirt road that as it drove through the forest, low-lying branches of trees and some bushes smacking and scraping against the steel of the vehicle. Thinking it too dangerous to stay up there thanks to the added risk of getting whacked from behind by an errant branch, Joel went back down and inside the APC, shutting and locking the hatch firmly.

"We there yet?" he called out to Rooney as he made it down the ladder.

"Almost!" replied the sniper-turned-driver. "Is our evac there?"

Joel didn't reply as he went to check on the two unconscious members of their little group, steadying himself by pressing his hand against the sides of the compartment.

Checking on Hunter first since his condition seemed to be worsening, Joel had felt a heaviness settle in his gut when he pressed his fingers against the man's neck and found the pulse to be barely discernible. The man might not live long enough to make it to proper medical attention at this rate.

The APC was jumping up and down from the rough terrain, but Joel figured he had to try and stabilize him enough to last until better medical help could be administered. He grabbed the medkit from Rooney up front before returning to apply what aid he could. It was difficult given the constant movement of the APC as well as the dim light, but he managed to at least dress the wound and apply some bandages.

Having done all he could for the man, and hoping he made it through, Joel then moved to the young girl and checked her pulse just in case, thankful that it was strong and steady. She stirred slightly at his touch and he threw out another hand to steady himself as the APC came to a halt in a short span of time.

"We're about ninety seconds out, sir, but the chopper isn't here!" Rooney said with worry through the comm.

"They'll be there," Joel replied with a confidence he didn't quite feel as he depressed the secondary button on his earpiece to switch the comm channel again.

In a lower tone, he spoke into the radio, "This is Agent Graves again. We are at the LZ with the package. I repeat, we have the package and are ready for evac. Where the hell is my chopper?"

There was no response.

"Does anyone copy?!" he hissed. "Hello? Is anyone even there? Answer me damn it!"

A reply finally came in a rather panicked tone, one that made Joel worry as he was reminded of what he had been told earlier. "Sorry, Agent Graves, we're under a lot of strain right now."

He was about to tell them what kind of strain he and his team were under but the voice on the other end kept talking, not giving him a chance to gripe.

"We were able to secure your transport. The helicopter is en route and should be there within the next few minutes for evac. Please stand by."

"Thank you." Joel breathed in relief and he switched the comm channel again. "Rooney, helicopter should be here in just a few min-"

**BOOM.**

He was suddenly thrown off his feet as something hit the APC with staggering force just as it had gone over a large enough bump in the road that, with the speed that it was traveling, rendered the armored vehicle momentarily airborne.

Whatever hit them was so strong and loud that it echoed inside the APC and the whole thing turned and then slid to the side when it was back on the ground. It tipped as its tires caught on something, and teetered before falling over onto its side in a massive crash.

Grimacing from several bruises and aches after being thrown against the side of the compartment, Joel grabbed at his right shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the impact. It felt dislocated, hanging painfully loose at his side. He grit his teeth as he grabbed at it and with a forceful jerk managed to pop it back into place with a fresh wave of pain radiating from his shoulder afterwards.

"Oww…" said a young, feminine voice, sounding painfully groggy. "What the fuck happened?"

Joel was glad she was still alive and called out to Rooney. "Rooney! You alright up there?"

It took a few seconds but the man replied, "Yeah. Just… a little shaken, sir. I was thankfully buckled up." Sure enough the sniper maneuvered his way out of the driver's compartment and into the passenger compartment.

"Did get hit by a tank?" asked the sniper.

"Maybe," Joel shrugged, then hissed at the pain from the movement. "Check on Hunter, will you?" Joel said to Rooney as he moved to the girl and began to unstrap her, dangling as she was from what was now the ceiling since the APC was on its side.

"What's… what's going on?" she asked, looking as confused as she sounded.

"Can you walk?" Joel questioned her as he carefully unbuckled and then lifted her out of her seat, placing her onto her feet next to him.

She nodded, looking down at her legs and holding on to him for a moment. "Yeah, I think so."

Joel spared a glance over to Rooney and Hunter, and the way the sniper was absolutely still spoke volumes.

"He's gone, sir..." the man finally said, looking up at him with pained eyes.

Joel gave him a hard look, though he did feel bad about the man's pissing, this was not the time or place to mourn or be sorrowful. "Then we move on without him, Rooney. The priority is securing and extracting the package," he said while gesturing towards the girl, who was slowly coming to her senses.

Taking a deep breath, the sniper nodded. "I got it."

"Now check the rear door, Rooney."

Taking one last look at Hunter before shaking his head sadly, Rooney walked to the back of the APC. "It isn't working, sir. Hydraulics or something must've been damaged when we got hit."

Joel immediately looked to the machine gun hatch. "Alright, we're gonna have to go through there," he pointed to it, "Rooney you get out first and secure the perimeter. And you," he looked pointedly at the young girl, "You stay behind me and you follow my ass as closely as you can, you hear me?"

"OK." She still seemed rather confused about what was going on, but thankfully she was cooperative this time around.

Rooney walked by him towards the hatch ladder, pausing for a second and saying, "Are we really just going to leave him here, sir?"

"We'll come back for him." Joel assured him, really hoping that they'd be able to come back, but from his short conversations with the local Agency field office in London he gathered that there was some major shit going down out in the wider world. He had a sinking feeling that retrieving an operative's body was probably low on the priority list at the moment.

Without another word the sniper withdrew a pistol from his waist, crouched, and walked up to machine gun hatch that was now horizontal with the ground. Opening it up, with the hatch swinging down easily thanks to gravity, he stuck his head out to take a look around. A few seconds later and he was outside.

"It's clear!" Rooney hissed through the hatch and Joel, MP-5 in hand, quickly exited too.

The APC had a big black mark on the side of it and it was warped and cracked in several areas, with a huge dent and a slight hole in the armor. It was clear that the terrorists had used some kind of highly explosive weapon, but whatever they had used was fortunately too weak to penetrate all the way through the layers of thick armor.

It was one helluva shot though, and he had to give credit to the enemy who had aimed and fired off the weapon that crippled the armored vehicle. Satisfied that the coast was clear, Joel turned and helped the girl out of the hatch. As her feet touched the ground, Rooney disappeared around the other side of the APC.

"What the fuck's happening?" The girl had a fierce look in her eye as she tried to make sense of her situation.

"Quiet!" Joel hissed, placing a hand to her mouth that she tried to struggle against for a second before the sound of a pistol discharging several times, followed by the pained cry of a man echoed through the night, caused her to stop resisting as her body went stiff.

There was a rustle of leaves nearby and Joel raised his submachine gun against his shoulder, crouching low and pressing against the toppled APC. He tried to peer through the darkness by squinting his eyes, which only helped a little bit.

"It's me," whispered Rooney, and Joel relaxed a fraction as the sniper came back around.

"How many?" Joel asked as the other man took up a position near the front end of the APC, pistol at the ready.

"I took out one, but it sounds like there's at least two more. Maybe three," replied the sniper tentatively.

"I'll watch the back, then," said Joel in a low voice as he made his way to the rear edge of the overturned armored vehicle. He could feel and hear the young girl behind him, her breathing rapid as she was undoubtedly panicking. There was a chance she'd try and make a break for it, but something told him she wouldn't. Not now at least.

Hushed voices carried over to them, and Joel could make out three distinct ones close by.

He concentrated on hearing them.

"… don't kill the girl," one of them finished saying.

"Should we wait for backup? They killed..."

"There is no backup for us," cut off the one who seemed to be in charge. "So we _can't_ screw this up."

"Ah, fuck this! I'm out."

"What the bloody fuck do you mean you're out? You can't just leave."

Suddenly, gunshots echoed across the clearing that they were in, and Joel couldn't help but shake his head. At least they were helping them out by killing each other. He gripped the submachine gun tightly and edged around the APC, though not before telling the girl to hang back.

She seemed hesitant, but nodded quietly in understanding.

He spotted two figures about twenty feet away, hiding behind a copse of trees, although clearly not directing their undivided attention towards the APC itself or anything, otherwise they'd have spotted him.

"You shot Rick! You just…"

"Of course I shot Rick! We're not supposed to run from this, and you can't just leave the Phoenix Corps whenever you bloody hell want to. You took an oath!"

"Fuck the oath! And fuck you man! This wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Don't make me shoot you too…"

"Oh yeah?"

Joel grinned as he edged closer the whole time they were arguing, hoping that they would simply shoot each other fatally and save him the trouble. He made sure that he could see both of them, and he got close enough that he actually could see their Humvee further back beyond them.

They both stiffened, weapons out.

"Wait, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Joel went still too, wondering if perhaps they had heard him. He didn't quite have the best angle just yet, but he could make do if necessary. Then Joel realized he could hear it too.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

It was the thudding of a helicopter echoing across the woods, and his eyes were drawn to the sky. Their ticket out of there had arrived. Better late than never. Turning his attention back to the two remaining enemies, he overheard them finally getting their act together.

"We can still get the girl and bring her back if we work together, but we need to be quick about it."

"Alright… Alright. Fine. I still can't believe you shot Rick. The bosses aren't gonna be happy."

"They're already unhappy with this mess. Besides, the bloody wanker had it coming."

Disappointed that they didn't end up shooting each other, Joel slunk forward a few more feet to a better spot where he unremorsefully opened fire. His MP-5 mowed them both down easily, their death cries brief and harsh against the otherwise quiet forest.

The only other sound now came from the rapidly approaching helicopter. Checking to make sure there was no one else around, Joel reached up to his earpiece and told Rooney it was all clear.

Rooney and the young girl emerged from behind the APC and walked towards him, the sounds of the helicopter louder now. Rooney stepped over to the downed enemies and kicked them hard once in the sides to make sure they were dead before resting a little easier, though he kept his pistol out in his right hand.

Appearing over the far tree line of the clearing, a Sikorsky UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter flew low across the clearing and leaned back in the air to arrest its momentum before turning and then slowly lowering itself as Rooney waved his arms around and walked towards where it was landing.

Watching as the helicopter descended, Joel walked towards it, with the young girl following slowly behind him.

Two soldiers got out of the helicopter, and Rooney seemed to be telling them something and pointing over to the APC. The two soldiers looked at each other before nodding and Rooney and one of them ran to the vehicle, no doubt to retrieve Hunter's body.

"Sorry we're late, Agent Graves," apologized the remaining soldier loud enough over the whine of the Blackhawk's turbine, his eyes darting behind Joel and around the area in constant vigilance, pointing his assault rifle low to the ground.

"I'm just glad you came," he said honestly.

He then motioned for the young girl to get on board ahead of him, stretching out a hand to help guide her up, but she ignored him and hopped in without his help. Looking at his rebuffed hand for a second, Joel let out an amused snort at her behavior and followed her into the chopper.

Sitting down heavily across from the young girl, he noted her unreadable expression and wondered what exactly made her so special to the Phoenix Corps. Why the hell had they kept her in a place like that in the first place? What had they been intending to do with her? And what had they already done to her?

Whatever the deal was with her, Joel watched Rooney and one of the soldiers carry Hunter's body over to the Blackhawk, and hoped that she was worth all this damn trouble.


	3. Pandemic

They flew west, away from the rising sun that cast the partially cloudy sky and the English countryside below in a fiery concoction of yellows, oranges, and reds.

It was a beautiful sight, but Joel wasn't in any mood to enjoy it. He leaned his head back against the headrest of his seat in an attempt to get more comfortable, listening to the rhythmic thumping of the rotor blades and the whine of the Blackhawk's turbine. It was tough to get too comfortable with a shotgun strapped across his back though, but he didn't bother to adjust it or take it off. He was far too tired to expend the energy necessary to do so.

Everyone aboard the Blackhawk had been quiet since they brought Hunter's lifeless body onto the helicopter and left the forest clearing. The body was secured with straps on the floor between the seats, the upper half covered with a cloth to make it a fraction less discomforting for everyone aboard.

Mission accomplished, but there was no celebration to be had.

Occasionally, Joel noticed that the young girl would glance at the covered body but her gaze never lingered for too long. At least outwardly, she didn't seem particularly disturbed by the sight and presence of the recently deceased, which was a little concerning to Joel.

He felt the urge to ask her all the many questions that were floating around in his mind, in particular the ones about her involvement with the Phoenix Corps, but he refrained from doing so. For one thing, it was difficult to have a proper conversation while riding inside a noisy helicopter, for another, as much as he was interested to know who she was and why she was so important to a bunch of terrorists, Joel knew that as a field operative it was not really his responsibility to know.

His task was to retrieve the package and deliver it to the Agency, and that was as far as he ought to care about it. Once he delivered the girl to the Agency, he would likely never see her again. This was certainly not his first time extracting a person from a hostile environment before, though such missions were few and far between these days, and they pretty much all ended the same way: with him not knowing more than he needed to know to complete his mission.

Unfortunately, it was getting difficult to ignore the growing curiosity that ate at him as he secretly studied the young girl for what seemed like the twentieth time in the last twenty minutes since they had gotten airborne. Whether or not she noticed his attention, he couldn't say. She hadn't even glanced once in his direction so far, keeping busy admiring the view outside the chopper.

In the close confines of the passenger compartment, Joel was able to make out the small scar that ran diagonally across her right eyebrow and the tiny freckles that populated her cheeks and nose. She had an almost disturbingly thin frame and he figured she was at most five feet tall, perhaps a little less.

He noted the scabs of various cuts on her exposed skin, and a few bruises here and there. Evidence of the abuse that she suffered while she was held prisoner. And then there were her eyes. They were green and dark, with an edge to them that had her looking far more mature and guarded than they ought to be for someone her age.

Anger unbidden welled up within him at the thought of the abuse she had received at the hands of her captors, something that became evident when she called him out for being one of those filthy bastards and accused him of tricking her into getting into trouble again so that they could have a reason to beat her. He clenched his jaw and tightened his fists, feeling the urge to bash some skulls in.

It was bad enough that they made her live like an animal in her own filth, but to treat a girl so young with such violence was far too much. Those types of men deserved a special place in hell, and he was glad he personally sent more than a few of them down there when he had broken the girl out. His only regret was that he didn't take down more of them before they made their escape.

He sighed loudly, though it was lost in amidst the thundering of the helicopter and the rushing wind. Pushing any further thoughts about the girl away, he tried to relax and let his emotions simmer down before they took a stronger hold. He had one job, and that was to get this girl back to the Agency. Caring about anything else went beyond the scope of his assignment.

Over the past few years in service to the Agency, he had learned that it was best not to get too attached or invested into his missions. It was simply better that way.

The girl finally seemed to notice his scrutiny and met his amber eyes briefly with a steady gaze of her own before looking away again. She tried to keep a straight face, but he could tell that she felt troubled about something. Though he figured it was only natural to feel troubled after everything she had been through.

Some time after the fiery sunset had given way to a dark and starry night sky, they touched down on a small CIA-operated airfield situated atop some bluffs that overlooked the southwestern coast of England. Empty fields and patches of trees and brush stretched out for miles and miles around the area, the vast sea of varying shades of green interrupted every now and again by groups of buildings huddled together into villages and towns. The sun was already well below the horizon, the last vestiges of its waning light clinging on to a dark sky that was already beginning to show some stars.

With United States Air Force bases in England, some questioned the necessity for the CIA having its own airfield in the country. The main reason was of course operational and informational security. The CIA operated in the shadows, often in legally and morally questionable ways, and sometimes even without approval from the administration.

Utilizing official military assets would leave too much of a paper trail and involve more people than the Agency was comfortable with, not to mention the fact that it was easier to operate independently without needing to coordinate with another organization, even if that organization was the USAF.

The young auburn-haired girl was silent when they exited the Blackhawk, its twin twin T700 Turboshaft engines powering down and its rotors slowing. They were escorted immediately towards a waiting Learjet idling not too far from where they landed on the tarmac. She regarded the plane for some time, looking up and down along the length of it with what Joel could only describe as awe before she halted in her tracks, turned around, and stared at him, causing the entire group to stop.

Rooney and the two soldiers watched silently as the two conversed.

"Okay, _Joel_ ," she began hesitantly, shifting her weight from one leg to another, apparently still somewhat skeptical that it was his real name, "Before I go any further... I want... need to know a few things. Like, who do you work for? Where are you taking me? and why... why are you doing this?"

Noticeably absent were any expletives that she had laced into her speech with reckless abandon earlier. Joel took it as a sign that she understood, at least on some level, that they meant her no harm. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight from one leg to the other, betraying her feelings of uncertainty and nervousness as she faced Joel even though her face was a mask of calm confidence.

He noted that she was pretty good at keeping a strong front, though she couldn't hide the emotion in her eyes or her body language.

Joel regarded her with a neutral expression for a moment as he mulled how best to respond to her questions. Should he tell her the truth or simply lie? Did it really matter? He could feel Rooney's gaze on him, and the Brit was probably wondering how he'd respond.

"Alright," Joel replied slowly, "I guess it's fair that you know a little something. Look, here's what I can tell you: I work for the United States government. This plane will take us back Stateside, where my superiors... will have some things to discuss with you," he replied. That was truthful enough without being too specific.

"And when we get there? What then? Will I be locked up in another cage?" Her tone took on a little bit of an edge as gripped herself tighter, green eyes squinting at him. "What do they even want to 'discuss'?" She made air quotes with her fingers.

Joel gave her a concerned look in return and frowned. "Look, I don't even know your name..."

"My name's Ellie," she said quickly, almost irritably, as if he should have known this already.

"... or why you were being held under heavy guard by terrorists," he continued with only the slightest of pauses, "My job is to simply get you back safely to my superiors, who will have _a lot_ of questions about what you know of the Phoenix Corps and their plans. Once you've answered them all, I imagine they will try to reunite you with your family as best as they can and make sure you're well looked after."

She didn't respond immediately, apparently digesting the information he was providing.

"I know this is a lot to take in," Joel added, "But you gotta understand... we're the good guys here. You're safe now, Ellie. You can trust us. I promise you that you've got nothing to worry about. Those bastards that locked you up won't be able to get to you anymore."

"Trust? Pffft... You know, _they_ said that they were the good guys too, and that I would be safe with them. That I should trust _them_. Look how that ended up. So I hope you'll understand when I say I don't trust anyone anymore," she told him bitterly. "And for your information, I don't fucking have any family left. There's just me," she added stiffly. Turning around, she then ran up the steps and disappeared into the aircraft cabin, leaving Joel at the base of it along with Rooney.

The two soldiers from the Blackhawk stood at attention a few feet away pretending not to have heard anything.

Joel shook his head at her as he watched her go, a sudden pang of guilt shooting through him for a moment at the sad revelation that she no longer had a family. What the hell had they done to her? And why did they consider her to be so valuable?

"Well. That was a tad unexpected, eh?" Rooney spoke up from beside him.

Joel snorted and gave him a sideways glance.

"I do feel sorta impressed about how she's handling all this though," Rooney admitted. "You'd think a girl her age would be more... subdued. Afraid. Overwhelmed even."

"Yeah," Joel agreed softly.

"Kinda makes you wonder what the hell she's been through to make her so damn tough. How old do you even think she is? Fourteen? Fifteen maybe? Goodness..." The man shook his head sadly.

Rooney was still all geared up, his long sniper rifle strapped over his shoulder, helmet in his left hand. With his right hand, he reached out and extended it towards Joel, who took it with a firm grip as the two shared a solemn look.

"Listen, I'm sorry about Hunter," Joel said, ignoring the man's comments on the girl. Rooney had not been inside that warehouse. He had not seen the conditions of her prison. He did not hear her first words to Joel. She had been through much more than she, or really anyone her age, deserved, and Joel probably didn't even know the half of it, much less so Rooney.

The sniper shrugged. "It's... fine. Well, not really but... he died in the line of fire, doing his duty, and that's as good a way to go as any," he replied with a tired voice. He looked up towards the open cabin door thoughtfully. "I actually didn't know him all too well. We've been on a couple of missions over the past year or so, and he was always pretty quiet. But he was a good lad, I suppose."

"You got that right," Joel said with a firm nod.

"Sir, one more thing... I know... I know that we're not supposed to ask too many questions in this line of work, that we only know what we need to... but, man-to-man, do you have any idea what her deal is and why we rescued her?"

Joel sighed. As much as he would have liked to tell him if he had known, he knew about as much as the sniper did, which was practically nothing. With a shake of his head, he said, "Your guess is as good as mine."

Rooney slowly nodded, as if physically accepting that answer might help him come to terms with the fact that he probably will never know what good, if any, came from their mission. "I figured as much, though I had hoped you were simply holding back on telling the girl and that you actually _did_ know something. Sorry to ask, sir. I just... I'd feel better knowing that what we did today actually mattered and that this wasn't all just a pointless exercise, you know? Especially after we lost Hunter."

"I hear ya, Rooney," Joel agreed as they released each other's grip. "But don't forget that we at least saved her from those bastards. That's something damned good right there, if you ask me."

Rooney's mouth twisted into a small grin. "You're right about that. I'm glad we got her out of there. Well, take care of yourself, sir."

"You do the same." Joel respectfully clapped the man on the shoulder, shared one last look as brothers-in-arms, and then made his way up the short flight of steps into the plane.

He was greeted by the one flight attendant on the plane as he made his way further into the cabin, and the flight attendant eyed his weapons a little warily, though made no comment about them.

Soon enough the door was pulled up and shut and the cabin secured for takeoff. Unlike Joel's plane ride to the United Kingdom, besides the crew - two pilots and the flight attendant - there was no one else on this flight except him and the girl. There were only a few seats on this Learjet, and they were spaced out far enough to give ample legroom to even the tallest individual.

All of them except one were empty.

Sitting in the very back with her legs curled up against her chest, arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting on her knees, was the young girl who was apparently called Ellie. On the floor in front of her seat was her worn backpack, and he wondered what she had in it. Her green eyes were locked onto him and he gave her a nod, causing her to look away.

Joel noted that she was a little cleaner than when she had come in, and he figured that she had washed up some in the lavatory. He eyed the attendant and wondered if she helped her with that, or perhaps even suggested it. With a sigh, he slid into a seat closer to the front of the plane, in part so that he was far enough away that he didn't have to deal with potentially talking to her.

Finally taking the shotgun off his back and placing it in the seat next to his, he buckled himself in, laying his MP-5 across his lap. He double-checked to make sure the safety was on - an accidental discharge would definitely not be welcome thousands of feet in the air.

For this last leg of the mission, the odds of him needing to use the guns were so small they were practically nonexistent, and he actually should have turned them in before getting onto the plane, at least the MP-5 and the shotgun, but nobody had said anything and he didn't feel like parting with them just yet while the mission was unfinished.

There was definitely something comforting about having guns at your side, especially ones that he had already used on a mission and therefore knew them to be reliable.

Attempting to clear his mind and get some rest, he reclined the seat and shut his eyes just as the plane lurched forward to begin moving towards the runway. He could not wait to deliver the girl and be done with this whole mess so that he could return to his own little girl. He wanted nothing more than to hug her close right now.

By the time the plane took to the air, a tired Joel had already dozed off.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Ellie observed the man who had saved her from that awful prison in a whirlwind break-out that she could still scarcely believe happened. He walked onto the plane and down the aisle a little, catching her eye and giving her a nod before taking his seat.

She wanted to march up there and apologize for how coldly and rudely she had been acting towards him. She wanted to believe his words and let him know that she honestly was grateful to be out of that fucking hellhole, but she had been lied to and manipulated too many times to count and it was really difficult for her to be nice. Harder still for her to place her trust in anyone anymore. He did seem sincere enough, she would give him that.

She blew air out of her mouth slowly, resting her now thankfully clean cheek to her knees and turning to look out the rounded window just as the sudden acceleration of the plane pushed her back into her seat. Soon the plane lurched and the ground slowly fell away as they hurtled headlong into the sky. She watched it happen, mesmerized.

This was her first time on an airplane, at least as far as she could remember, and she couldn't help but feel awed by the experience. She continued to stare out of the window closest to her for some time, watching as they reached higher than even the clouds as they floated along above the world.

How she wished she could simply fly away from all of this herself.

She looked back towards Joel, his right shoulder and arm the only thing visible from where she was sitting. He had said he was taking her to the U.S. government for questioning, and she decided that she could roll with that.

She would tell them whatever it is they wanted to know, not that she was really sure what they could possibly want from her since she didn't think she knew that much about her captors. Then hopefully, as Joel had said, she would be sent on her merry way. She would finally be free after all these years.

The thought of moving on and attempting to live a normal life was starting to feel more real now, and she was finding that it actually frightened her more than dying. She would be alone, with nowhere to go, and with a terrible and inescapable past that she probably would never be able to forget. Attempting to live a normal life after all this seemed impossible, but she felt like after all she and those she knew had gone through, she should at least give it a try.

After so many years as a prisoner, she had already forgotten what it was like to be free. To actually live as much outside a set of walls as inside them. To see the sun and feel its warmth on her skin. To breathe fresh air daily and go as far as she wanted whenever she wanted. To bathe! In a bathtub! With bubbles and soap and fresh smells. And to eat, oh the foods she could eat!

Those early years of her life from before her time with the Phoenix Corps were only vague and fuzzy memories that had faded as the days turned into weeks and months. And years. Sometimes she even wondered how much of what she could remember was real instead of simply a fabrication of her imagination, fueled by her desires and dreams to escape the nightmare that had become her life.

It was hard to miss having parents since she barely knew what it was like to have them to begin with, but she cried out for them in her first few weeks as a prisoner. That stopped eventually, when she remembered that they weren't there and had abandoned her either through death or whatever other reason.

She didn't even know who her father was. Apparently he had died shortly after she was born, but she didn't actually know that for sure. And Ellie could barely even remember her own mother, who raised her until she passed away and left her all alone. Anna was her name, and thinking about her made Ellie's thoughts turn to the crumpled and worn letter that lay inside her well-worn bag along with what few possessions she owned.

It was a long, hand-written and tear-stained letter that tried to apologize and explain why she was leaving Ellie at this place called an orphanage, and she had read it so many times that she could picture it clearly in her mind. Her mother had been very ill and when she realized she would not make it, she began to write this letter so that one day her daughter might understand what had happened and why things turned out the way they did.

After the vague explanations, her mother shared a few stories of Ellie's much younger days, some of which Ellie could actually remember, but most of the little stories were unknown to her and could have been made up for all she knew. That part read almost like a diary instead of a letter.

Towards the end of the letter, the woman had expressed her hopes and her dreams for her daughter. She had hoped that Ellie would one day leave the orphanage, taken in by a loving family who could raise her and provide for her like she couldn't, and she would have a bright and happy future. She would learn to love, to live, and to leave her mark on the world. And through it all, her mother had said she would be sure to watch over her from heaven as a guardian angel.

Closing her eyes, Ellie wondered how she had ever believed any of that bullshit.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Sarah was in her pajamas, lying down sideways on the couch watching some comedy B-movie with her head resting on one of the plush royal blue cushions, when her uncle walked into the living room looking distracted and tired. He didn't notice the young girl at first, so lost was he in his thoughts.

"Hey uncle Tommy. Are you going to check on Jimmy again?" she asked, turning her head slightly to better look at her uncle.

Tommy nodded absently. "Yeah." Then he stopped as if he remembered something important. Turning to his niece, he gave her a stern look. "What time is it, Sarah?"

"Umm.. peanut butter jelly time?" she said with a grin in her best attempt at sounding clueless, rubbing her eyes tiredly after she spoke.

Tommy snorted. "What? What does that even–" He shook his head. "Nevermind. C'mon, Sarah, it's late. Get upstairs and get to bed, kiddo. Besides, you've already watched too much TV for one night. Your brain will turn to mush, ya know," he lectured her while walking over to grab the remote and turn off the television.

"Oh, you mean like yours did?" she quipped with a grin.

Tommy leveled a mock glare at her. "Hey now! I'll have you now that I was _not_ the dumbest person in class."

"The second dumbest then?" Sarah giggled.

"Get to bed," he growled, though he couldn't help but chuckle.

"But uncle Tommyyyy, it's Friday..." she pouted, not wanting to go to bed yet even though she was clearly feeling sleepy. Her body betrayed her by making her yawn at that very moment.

"No ifs, ands, or buts about it, Sarah. Get your butt upstairs and into bed," he declared, not bending one inch.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. Can I at least get some water?" she asked in resignation.

"Of course. Go get somethin' to drink. When I get back from Jimmy's you better be under the covers and in bed, okay?"

Sarah nodded. "Yes, uncle Tommy." Yawning again, she stretched like a cat before she jumped off the couch and ambled over to the kitchen.

Tommy followed her with his eyes, making sure she made her way upstairs after getting her glass of water. Truthfully, he did not much care what time she slept on the weekends, but tonight was an exception. With Jimmy seriously ill he was afraid he might contract whatever sickness he had, and at least having Sarah keep to herself in her room tonight would minimize his contact with her until he could sort out this mess with his neighbor.

After he heard the door to her room shut, he was out the back door and walked the thirty some yards over to Jimmy's backyard.

Jimmy lived alone, though Tommy knew he had some family about two towns away in the next county. He worked as a mechanic at an auto shop in the city, an hour-long commute one way, working long hours to help save up enough money to go to college to finish the degree in mechanical engineering that he had been studying before he had to drop out due to financial issues. He also had to pay his mortgage and help out his parents, both of whom were retired. He worked hard, like most people in the area, and he was a nice enough young guy that Tommy got along pretty well with him whenever they both had some free time to talk and hang out.

Sometimes, Tommy would even let him work on his construction sites and paid him under the table to help him out when he needed a little extra cash.

About an hour and a half earlier, Tommy had left Jimmy in his bed with a cold rag on his forehead and two glasses of water in case he was thirsty. His fever was unabated and he had been mostly unconscious, mumbling a few words every now and again like he was in some bad dream.

This was the third time he was checking up on Jimmy after bringing him back home from the diner, and he prayed while walking over that his neighbor might finally start getting better.

The first time he had checked on Jimmy he had seemed neither better nor worse than when he had brought him back to his home. On his second visit, Jimmy seemed to be getting worse and Tommy was beginning to regret his decision to not take him to the hospital immediately after the incident at the diner.

If the man wasn't any better this time around, Tommy could no longer justify not taking him to the hospital. He would have to get himself checked too, just in case he might have contracted the same illness from interacting with his neighbor so closely. From what he had seen so far he hoped that it was not infectious, and he was getting increasingly worried about Sarah's safety.

The sliding glass door that led into the dining room of Jimmy's small house rumbled noisily as he pulled it open. He had left it unlocked earlier, since it was easier to go through their backyards than to go around through the front. There was one lamp on in the corner, its yellow light illuminating enough of the otherwise dark room for him to navigate through without bumping into anything.

The echoing of a ticking clock was a marching drum of sorts on his silent march through his neighbor's home. Up the stairs and around the corner he went, stopping in front of Jimmy's room for a moment of quiet prayer that the man's health would be improved this time around.

Turning the handle, he pulled against the door and it creaked as it swung open.

Immediately, his eyes locked on to the figure standing hunched over by the bed and next to the far wall. Relief flooded through him as he recognized his neighbor, who was apparently now strong enough to stand on his own two feet, though Tommy had no idea why he was all hunched over like that. Was the man looking for something on the night stand? Something didn't feel quite right.

"Jimmy?" he called out cautiously.

Then he noticed the covers of the bed had been thrown off and were now lying in a heap on the floor. One of the glasses of water he had brought for Jimmy earlier was now lying broken on the floor, the carpet dark and wet around it. Joel's eyes darted around the room, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

His neighbor apparently hadn't heard him because the man continued to stand in the same place by the bed, back turned towards him, without so much as an acknowledgement of his presence.

Tommy was about to call out to him again when he realized that there was something really off with the way Jimmy was standing. Something _wrong_. He took one wary step into the room, eyes trained on Jimmy. He saw it in the way he was hunched over, and the slight spasms of his upper body that seemed to come in waves, his head shaking in an almost seizure-like way. There was a tremor in his arms too. It all seemed so unnatural. So very wrong. And then Jimmy started to moan. A painful, sorrowful moan that sent a shiver down Tommy's spine. What the hell?

"Jimmy?" he said again, louder, feeling very strongly like he should get out of there and call 9-1-1 and yet rooted to the spot out of both uncertainty and concern for his friend.

His neighbor stiffened, apparently hearing him now, and then shook like he was silently coughing hard, arms flailing about. Then he let out a low guttural growl that made Tommy finally take a step back towards the hallway, not looking away from his ill friend for one second. That did not sound or look good at all.

Taking another step back, Tommy gasped as Jimmy suddenly whipped his head around, his face pale and sweaty, and his bloodshot eyes eerily aglow.

- **xxxVxxx** -

BOOM.

The explosive sound echoed across the area and was followed by the house quivering and the windows rattling from the blast. Sarah's eyes fluttered open at the disturbance, a shiver of fear shooting through her. It sounded like it came from close by. Several car alarms could be heard going off outside.

What the heck was that? She had been more than halfway asleep when it happened and she rubbed her eyes tiredly, yawning as she swiveled her legs over the edge of her bed, bare feet touching the soft carpet.

She reached for her cellphone, a small baby blue flip phone that her father had given her after she had pretty much begged him for it; in the suburbs of Washington D.C. apparently most kids her age had cellphones and she wanted to fit in, being the new girl and all. Her few friends - most of them on the soccer team - were happy to be able to contact her without having to call her home phone all the time. In fact, ever since she got her phone, her friends rarely called and mostly just texted.

Her dad had not been too keen on giving her a phone at her age, but he eventually relented, although he didn't get her any of those fancy new smartphones and opted to give her this older model. Sarah didn't care about that though because at least she had one.

She flipped it open now, and the display screen came to life. "Aw really now?" she whispered in frustration as she eyed the top left corner of the display. There was no signal.

Turning off the phone and turning it back on again, she was disappointed to find that there was still no cell service. Usually she had at minimum three bars around this area, so something must have happened to the network. Either that, or her phone was really busted, but she somehow doubted that.

Slipping the phone into the pocket of her plaid pajama pants anyway, she made her way out of her room and knocked on her uncle's bedroom door down the hall.

"Uncle Tommy?"

Only silence greeted her. She knocked again, harder this time. "Uncle Tommy, are you in there?"

There was no response.

She slowly opened the door. The room was dark, the shades drawn, and flipping the lights on she realized it was empty. His bed had not even been touched, which meant he had yet to come up. The loud wailing of police sirens nearby suddenly made her a little nervous and she went over to the house phone next to the bed, picking it up.

There was no dial tone.

"Why aren't any of the phones working?" she mumbled, her heart beating faster. She had a bad feeling about all this.

She put it back on the phone base and quickly went downstairs. As she got to the bottom of the staircase, she glanced out the window facing the front of the house and saw a red-orange glowing in the distance with a thick plume of black smoke rising up into the sky.

Now she knew where that booming sound came from earlier. It must have been a really big explosion from what she could see from the window, and she hoped nobody was hurt. That also had to explain the outage in phone service.

The lights were still on in the living room and kitchen, just as when she had gone upstairs to go to bed earlier. Besides the noise of a few car alarms from some distance away outside, the house was quiet. There was no sign of her uncle.

"Helloo? Uncle Tommy?" she called out, her feet padding softly onto the cool floor tiles of the kitchen. Still no answer.

He was probably still at Jimmy's place, so she decided to just wait since she doubted she could fall asleep anytime soon. Pouring herself another glass of water in the kitchen, she made her way to the living room and sat down on the couch, bringing her legs up and crossing them underneath her. She held the glass of water by her crossed feet and reached for the TV remote.

With a click, the television glowed to life. Moving black and white streaks and static greeted her. Flipping through the channels, she discovered that most of them were the same static, something that she found extremely odd, except for one news channel that was still streaming their broadcast.

_"… reports are coming in from all over. This is not an isolated incident, with much of the continental United States and even countries around the globe experiencing what many are already calling a Pandemic. The National Guard, Army, Air Force, and even Naval units are being mobilized and deployed. So far we have no official word from government officials on what is going on, but a State of Emergency has been called throughout the nation. We'll keep broadcasting for as long as we can…"_

Sarah's heart quickened as she continued watching. Taking her phone out to check if it finally had signal - it didn't - she returned her attention to the TV, trying to figure out what in the world was going on.

What was taking uncle Tommy so long?

- **xxxVxxx** -

Joel stirred, awoken by the call of nature sent out by his apparently very full bladder. He glanced out the nearest window into the dark of night that was interrupted every other second by the brief flashes from the plane's lights. Unbuckling his seat belt, he stood and stretched out, yawning mightily before he walked up to the lavatory at the front of the plane.

It was unfortunately occupied however.

"Figures," he muttered, glancing to the rear of the plane towards the other one.

"Need anything, sir?" asked the flight attendant from behind him.

Joel half-turned and shook his head, "Uh, no thanks. I'm fine. Just needed to go to the restroom, that's all," he replied and stuck his thumb over his shoulder towards the lavatory door. "But this one's occupied."

The attendant looked worriedly at the closed door. "Yeah, the captain's in there. He didn't look so good when I saw him and, well... he's been in there a while..."

Joel grunted, not really caring about the potential bathroom activities of others. "You know what? A bottle of water sounds great actually. You can leave it on my chair. Thanks."

He started walking towards the back of the plane before the attendant could say anything else. Passing by the young girl who was fast asleep in her seat, he saw her bag on the ground with her feet resting on it and he briefly wondered why the Phoenix Corps had let her keep it. They had not only captured her and held her prisoner, but treated her badly as well, and yet they let her keep the bag and whatever else was inside it.

No doubt whatever she had with her was important to her. Someone higher up in the command chain must have ordered that she be allowed to have it with her, but why? Sighing, he shook his head as he got to the aft lavatory. No sense wasting time thinking on it though since she was going to be off his hands, and his mind, soon enough.

After relieving himself, and as he was washing his hands, he began to at least feel grateful that the mission hadn't taken nearly as long as he had thought. And though he was saddened by the loss of Hunter, all things considered the mission could have been much worse. Now that he was nearing the end of this trip, he would be able to go down to Texas sooner and spend some good family time with his brother and daughter. Maybe he could request some days off soon and he could fly them all out to the Caribbean or something.

Screams of pain from the main cabin cut through the omnipresent noise of the jet engines and interrupted his thoughts. Concerned, Joel fumbled with the latch for a moment before he managed to scramble out of the lavatory, only to bear witness to a bewildering and gruesome sight.

Up front by the cockpit, the forward lavatory door was broken and barely hanging on to the door frame by its hinges while the cockpit door a little further forward was wide open, revealing the small cockpit beyond. Two of the plane's crew looked at first to be hugging each other right outside of it, except closer inspection revealed that they were struggling mightily against one another. Both of them were wearing pilot's uniforms. One was trying to get away while the other was holding on to him and _biting_ savagely into the man's neck. Blood squirted and gushed forth, staining the victim's white uniform and splattering all over the cabin.

The yelps and cries of the victim were weakening, as was his struggling against his attacker, and the attacker himself seemed more like a rabid animal disguised as a human than anything else as he made strange, guttural noises while he munched on the man's flesh like a starving man presented with a plate of raw beef.

"What in the hell?" Joel breathed as he stepped forward, hands gripping the headrest of the nearest seat tightly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. This couldn't actually be happening, he thought. He had to still be dreaming or something. This was a scene straight out of some horror film.

"Captain! C-Captain stop! What... What are you doing?! Y-You're killing him!" said the flight attendant who was by Joel's seat near the front of the plane with a bottle of water in his hand, the beverage slipping out and falling to the floor with a heavy thud.

The captain turned, suddenly very interested in the flight attendant as the other officer, who Joel presumed to be the co-pilot, tumbled heavily backwards into the cockpit.

The flight attendant looked down quickly and grabbed Joel's MP-5 that had been sitting in his seat. "S-Stay back!" he warned, shakily raising the gun up.

Joel cursed and quickly moved up the aisle. The fool better not fire wildly or else he was going to seriously endanger them all. He started to yell. "Hey! Don't-"

The crazed captain, fresh blood from his fellow crew member streaming from his mouth and staining his own white uniform, lunged towards the flight attendant.

Gunshots sounded and it was clear the flight attendant had never handled a gun before. Or at the very least not a sub-machine gun like the MP-5. His shots went everywhere and he emptied the whole magazine, managing to hit the captain thrice in the gut and twice in the shoulder. A moment later the plane lurched and the engines began to whine louder, as if in protest.

"Ugh shit!" Joel steadied himself by grabbing onto the seats as he moved forward.

The crazed captain was thrown off his feet, along with the flight attendant, but the former quickly recovered and scrambled onto the fallen man who began to scream in fear and then agony as the captain was upon him, teeth wetting themselves with his blood.

"Joel!" Ellie cried in alarm from behind him, finally awakened by all the commotion.

"Stay in your seat! Make sure you're buckled up!" he yelled without looking back at her.

The captain looked up sharply at him with bloodshot eyes that seemed to glow, moaning and then growling before trying to get to his feet in an attempt to get to him. Fresh blood coated much of his upper torso and streamed down from his mouth.

"Oh no you don't," said Joel as he drew the 9mm pistol from the secondary holster, automatically flipping the safety off.

He didn't hesitate, having witnessed what the crazed man had already done to his crew members. Two bloody gunshots to the face and the captain fell, body spasming but clearly dead. The bullets had exited the back of his head and embedded themselves into one of the walls of the lavatory. Splatters of blood covered the walls. The crazed captain was dead and the only threat now was the plane, which Joel thought was a big fucking threat.

Holstering the pistol, Joel stepped over their bodies to move forward but immediately stopped and grabbed hold of the chairs next to him as the plane lurched again. This time, he could feel the nose of the plane dip even more and they began to descend at a faster rate, the engines whining and the fuselage groaning, prompting Joel to hurry to the cockpit.

Smoke laced through the air of the cockpit and Joel's eyes were quick to note several bullet holes in the wide dashboard, sparks flying from some of the damage. Sprawled all over the co-pilot's seat and splattering the area with blood, a shoulder pressed up against the yoke, was the co-captain. Realizing that the copilot's shoulder was pushing them into a nose-dive that was approaching ninety degrees down, Joel immediately grabbed the dead man and lifted him up and away from the controls. The body was heavy, and the plane shuddered and shook as he managed to finally drop the corpse on the floor. He slid into the pilot's seat, hands grasping the yoke instinctively as he began to pull.

He could feel the plane resisting him as they plummeted. The altimeter was going crazy, the numbers changing so fast that anyone staring at it would likely go dizzy. Joel grit his teeth as he continued to pull, and he could feel the plane slowly moving to obey. He coughed and raised a hand to wave the smoke away from some of the fried electronics.

There was a myriad of insistent beeping noises and blinking lights and it seemed like every beeping alarm possible was going off. The number of controls, lights, and dials was daunting, but he tried to think which ones were important, hoping to make sense of them.

"SINK RATE! PULL UP! SINK RATE! PULL UP!" complained a computerized voice.

"Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy. Shit! They're dead... they're definitely dead," said a fearful Ellie from behind him as she spotted the co-pilot on the ground, causing him to jump ever so slightly because he had not expected her to come up to the cockpit.

"What the hell... didn't I tell you to buckle up back there?" he replied angrily as he spared a glare towards her, noting that she had her backpack on, her hands extended outwards and to the sides to brace herself.

She looked at him like he was stupid. "No way! I'm not gonna sit back there all alone and wait for this fucking plane to crash!"

The plane shuddered as they continued to descend at a sharp angle, causing them both to look out the cockpit with alarm at the dark mass of the earth that was rapidly approaching.

"SINK RATE! PULL UP! SINK RATE! PULL UP!"

Ellie jumped into the co-pilot's seat and strapped herself in, pulling on the straps tightly to secure herself properly, repeating over and over to herself in a justifiably scared shitless tone that they were going to die.

"Please tell me you can fly a plane, Joel!" she yelled fearfully.

- **xxxVxxx** -

"Jimmy..." Tommy said in a warning voice as he edged into the hallway.

His neighbor growled and then stumbled towards him, hands rising to grab at him but all they grabbed was air as Tommy moved aside completely into the hallway. Jimmy clumsily ran into the door and turned to Tommy, who was looking at him with a bewildered expression. What in the hell was wrong with the guy? He looked possessed and sickly, and he sounded like it too.

Jimmy came after him again and Tommy booked it down the stairs, his enraged neighbor noisily and ungracefully following. Through the front door he went, covering the short distance between their houses and quickly getting inside. His breaths were short and quick and he rested against the door, trying desperately to understand what was going on.

"Uncle Tommy!" Sarah gasped from the couch, standing worriedly at the sight of him by the door and out of breath.

"Sarah," he said, "Call 911. Jimmy is... there's somethin' terribly wrong with him."

"I can't, the phones are down."

"Cellphones too?"

"Yeah. There's no cell service."

He frowned at that. "Damn it."

"We shoulda taken him to the hospital..." she said.

Tommy sighed. Looking back on it now, he wished they had. Maybe the doctors could have saved him. He noticed movement outside through the windows and instinctively ducked to avoid being seen. "Get down," he hissed at Sarah, who followed his lead and crept closer to him. She looked scared. From outside, the sounds of moaning could be heard.

"Is it... Jimmy?"

He nodded.

"He must be infected like the others..." she said softly.

"Infected? Like the others? What are you talking about?"

She looked over her shoulder at the television, which was turned off. "I... I was watchin' the news before the broadcast stopped... and... they're callin' it a... a pandemic, sayin' that... people who are infected with this strange fungus thing, they... they become violent and attack anyone, even their families. It's happenin' all over and the military is gettin' involved and..."

"Sweet Jesus," breathed Tommy, running a hand through his hair.

"What do we do?" Sarah whispered.

"Let me think," he replied. The phones were down and his neighbor was apparently crazy now. Maybe a trip to the police station would be a good start. He went close to the nearest window facing the front of his house and slowly took a peek outside. Jimmy was shuffling around on his lawn, continuing to moan as his upper body spasmed every few seconds and his arms flailed about.

The car was in his driveway, but they would have to get past his infected neighbor first. He told Sarah to wait and went to retrieve his shotgun - it was a barely used Benelli M2 that he had bought off of a friend "for emergencies" and this definitely qualified as one.

Getting to his office, he went to his desk and grabbed the key to the gun cabinet from its hiding spot in one of the drawers. The cabinet was in the corner and although it was big enough to hold multiple guns, the M2 was the only one he owned. He didn't even have a handgun, though he had always been meaning to get one. It was never a priority though, particularly because he had the shotgun, but now he wished he had one.

The shotgun was cool to the touch as he grabbed it, reassured by the solid weight in his hands. The gun seemed to be in working condition, though he would find out soon enough. He took the unopened box of shells at the bottom of the cabinet and ripped the top off, loading five shells into the tubular magazine, sliding the pump back to put one in the chamber before placing one last shell in for the maximum capacity.

He then grabbed the remaining twelve gauge shells and stuffed all of them into his pockets. Even though they were bulky and annoying, he had a feeling he was going to need as many shells as he could carry.

When he returned to Sarah, she eyed the shotgun warily at first but then seemed to take comfort in the fact that he had one.

"Okay, here's the deal. We need to get the hell out of here and into my truck. When we get out there you stick real close to me, okay?"

She nodded, "I got it." Her grey eyes looked up at the nearest window with worry.

"Let's go."

They moved to the front door where Tommy grabbed the keys from the key holder screwed into the wall. Holding the shotgun close, he opened the door slowly and the two of them walked outside. Jimmy was looking away but then turned and spotted them, letting out another growl before running towards them and groaning as he went.

Sarah gasped and grabbed a hold of Tommy's shirt as the shotgun boomed with a flash and Jimmy was thrown back, his entire left shoulder gone. His severed left arm flew through the air, landing across the yard and close to the road.

"C'mon!" Tommy said urgently and they both ran for the pickup truck.

Once inside, Tommy started it up, the engine rumbling to life. "Buckle up," he said as he secured his own seatbelt with a click.

Gravel crunched beneath the heavy-duty tires of his truck. They drove away and passed by several families who also lived on this street who were packing suitcases and other crap into their cars, trying to get away as well. It was strange to see them trying to bring all their things with them, particularly since Tommy and Sarah hadn't brought anything of theirs with them. But some people, even in a crisis, are still overly concerned with their material possessions.

To the left in the distance Tommy noted plumes of smoke and the red-orange tinges of light that indicated several fires. For the most part the back roads were empty and he was grateful for that as they continued to drive along, heading for the county police station.

"He's... He's dead... You killed him," remarked the young girl from the passenger seat, uneasily.

"I had to. He wasn't... He wasn't himself," he explained, "He was infected, like... like what you saw on the news." At least that was the only possible explanation for the behavior that his neighbor had displayed.

Tommy turned on the radio, but there was nothing playing. No radio stations seemed to be on the air.

"Uncle Tommy, are we... are we gonna get sick too? Are we infected?" Sarah suddenly asked, staring at her open palms on her lap.

"No honey. We won't get sick," he replied with as much confidence as he could project. "And if we were infected, we would have been like Jimmy by now." At least that's what he hoped.

In the distance he could see police cars blocking the road and he stopped as one of the officers stepped onto the road and held a hand up, the other hand holding a pistol by his side. A few other officers manning the roadblock had their guns trained at them and Tommy couldn't help but gulp as he rolled down his window and the officer approached.

"The area ahead is off limits, sir. You're going to have to turn around," the officer said.

"Look officer, we were hopin' to get to the county police station. We're just tryin' to get to a safe place," he told the policeman.

The man frowned, "There ain't a lot of safe places anymore," he remarked as his hard eyes drifted over to the young girl in the passenger seat. "But the military's setting up a checkpoint by the highway. I'm willing to bet that it's going to be real crowded, but it's your best bet to get to safety. They're supposedly trying to set up some safe zones where they can bring the uninfected. Where they are and when those will be open, I have no idea."

Gunfire erupted ahead of them, bright flashes of light coming from their weapons, as the police officers manning the roadblock began to engage some infected who were running towards them from the road beyond. The officer turned back to them as he readied his pistol, "Get out of here!" He ran back to the roadblock, taking a position behind a patrol car and began to fire at the advancing crowd of infected. There were way too many for the officers to take down all of them before they reached the roadblock.

"Uncle Tommy..." Sarah said fearfully as he shifted the truck into reverse, tires kicking up dirt as he turned around and headed back the other way. They turned onto a dirt road they had passed earlier. As they rounded a bend, a farmhouse off to the right on the hill was ablaze in a brilliant fiery display.

"Holy hell. That's Louis' farm..." he said sadly, driving past it.

Sarah stared out the window at the burning home. "Do you think they made it out?"

"I'm sure they did."

They turned right at the next intersection, still having not met another car on the road, and as they approached a short bridge up ahead the headlights illuminated a family of three walking on the side of the road. A little boy and his parents. The father started to wave at them with both hands over his head.

"Let's see what they need," Tommy said as he rolled to a stop next to them.

They piled into the back. The little boy was crying and the mother was trying to comfort him as the father breathed a sigh of relief and then spoke up.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much," he said, his voice shaky.

"No problem. Name's Tommy, this is my niece Sarah," Tommy introduced themselves as the mother shut the door. Sarah waved at them and said hello.

"I'm Richard. This is my wife Becky and our son Ricky," the man replied.

"Thank you again, Tommy," said Becky as she held her son close, the little boy whimpering into her silk nightgown under the jacket that she was wearing as she stroked his head soothingly.

Richard glanced at his family and then asked, his voice regaining some composure, "Where y'all headed?"

Tommy continued to drive and got onto the bridge. "We heard the military has set up some kinda checkpoint by the highway. Supposedly they're letting uninfected people through and bringing 'em to safety somewhere. Not sure exactly though."

"Yeah, we heard 'bout the checkpoint too... but uninfected huh? So this is some kind of... virus or somethin'? What the hell is going on?" the man said as gripped the back of the driver's chair and leaned forward over the center console, staring ahead.

"I'm not really sure," was all Tommy could say as they crossed over the bridge.

To their left stood the hospital and it was most likely full to capacity. An ambulance, lights flashing and siren blaring, pulled out from there and sped past them back towards the way they came. The road sloped downward and they came to a halt behind a sea of brake lights as dozens of cars clogged the road all the way to the highway. Honking and shouting echoed across the night. From here they could see the big military vehicles set up for the checkpoint just past the on-ramp.

"Aw hell, looks like everybody and their mother's got the same damn idea," Tommy lamented, hitting the steering wheel in annoyance with the palm of his hand. It would take them hours in this traffic to get to the checkpoint, and something told him that they didn't have that much time. But how else were they going to get to the checkpoint?

Things were not looking good at all. He wished that his brother was there to help and he wondered whether Joel was caught up in all of this too. Hopefully he was okay.

- **xxxVxxx** -

"Ellie! Help me pull!" From the corner of his eye he saw the young girl grab the controls and grunt as she began to pull on it as well.

The Learjet continued to shudder violently as the plane began to ease out of its sudden dive, though the dark ground was coming up towards them at a far too frightening rate. Alarms continued to sound while the computerized voice continued to blare "SINK RATE! PULL UP! SINK RATE! PULL UP!" They were still pulling on the yoke and the plane was slowly obeying. The sound of tearing metal could be heard and Joel looked to the left in horror, watching as parts of the left wing began to break off from the tremendous stress of the rapid descent.

"We're not going to make it... we're not going to make it... we're not going to make it!" Ellie screamed, tears suddenly rolling down her cheeks.

"Keep! Pulling!" he yelled. His heart was pounding so hard like it was trying to escape from his chest. They were pulling out of the nosedive but they were nowhere near level. Was this how it was going to end?

"I'm pulling!" she yelled back. "Are you pulling?!"

"Terrain! Pull up! Terrain! Pull up!" the computerized voice suddenly changed its warning.

"Joel!" Ellie glanced at him tearfully.

"Brace yourself!" he cried.


	4. Broken

"Might be better if we walked to the damned checkpoint," Tommy remarked as he eyed the veritable sea of cars ahead of them. His patience was wearing thin, and everyone else in the car felt the same way. They had barely moved from when they first arrived, although that wasn't more than a few minutes ago. Still, at the rate they were going it was probably going to take all night for them to even get to the on-ramp.

The driver of the car in front of them stepped out of his vehicle, staring out at the traffic ahead and raising his hands in exasperation.

"What the fuck? Come on people!" the man yelled, "Let's fucking get a move on here!" The man leaned back into his car and honked the horn several times, causing a few others ahead of him to honk as well.

Tommy snorted. "Yeah, like that's going to do anything."

"What in the hell...?" whispered Richard from behind him and just as Tommy was going to ask what he was talking about, he saw it.

One of the patients from the hospital had apparently escaped and was now running towards the street still dressed in his hospital gown. There was blood all over his face, neck, and the collar of the gown. He ran wildly towards the driver of the vehicle in front of them, who had yet to notice what was going on to his left. When he turned, he raised his hands and leaned back in surprise before the patient leaped and tackled him into the side of his own car.

Both of them fell to the ground with the crazed patient on top clawing at the driver's face relentlessly, bloody face snarling and feral. The driver's companion in the passenger seat started screaming as a second patient arrived shortly after the first and entered the open driver's side door. The second patient also began to attack that poor woman.

"Ummm... Uncle Tommy..." Sarah whispered fearfully, her left hand reaching out to him and gripping tightly against his bicep and her other hand bracing against the door. Her breaths became short and panicked as she watched the horrifying scene unfold.

"Get us out of here damn it!" Richard yelled in alarm from behind.

"I got it." Tommy nodded, putting the car into reverse.

The first patient looked up from atop the now unmoving driver, the sudden movement of Tommy's truck catching his attention. He got to his feet and started running towards them.

"Come on! Come onnn... Let's get moving Tommy!" Richard started yelling louder, protectively placing an arm around his family as he nervously watched the incoming crazy.

Tommy backed the car up and turned towards the side road that led to the nearby town. He shifted gears as quickly as he could and floored it.

THUMP!

The patient managed to get a hand on the car window on Richard's side right as the trucks rear tires screeched and the pickup pulled away. In the rear view mirror, he could see some cars that had come in behind them attempt to do the same, while others tried to turn around and go back the way they had come earlier.

In the backseat, Ricky whimpered into his mother's chest and she held him tightly, both of them shaken by what they saw.

"What the fuck man! What the fuck just happened?" breathed Richard, gripping Tommy's seat in front of him.

"I have no idea," Tommy replied truthfully as he drove on, trying to understand it himself. Those people looked really sick. Just like Jimmy did. So it had to be some kind of virus that somehow drove people crazy. Crazy enough to attack and kill anyone in sight. But there was no way to know for sure.

"Language," Becky warned weakly, as if language was still something to worry about in the current situation.

Her husband glared at her for a second, before he looked down at their son and nodded. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "Sorry." Turning back to the road ahead, he said, "Now what? We can't go back there and that's the only way to the highway unless we go all the way around..."

"We can cut through town. Maybe go up through the embankments on the sides of the highway or somethin'," Tommy suggested.

"Might work," agreed Richard.

Tommy turned left at an intersection and then immediately brought the truck to a screeching stop as a bunch of people were running towards them in the middle of the street. They looked panicked. Afraid. Confused.

"Aw hell, come on people. Move!" Tommy said with a shake of his head.

Of course it wasn't going to be that easy to just drive through the town to get to the highway. Further ahead there was a bus that crashed into some parked cars on the side of the road, effectively blocking most of the way except for the sidewalk to the left. It looked like the truck would fit, except people were running towards them from the space that he wanted to drive through. One of the fleeing people was looking back towards where he came and backed into the truck with a light thump. Whirling around, the man's eyes looked dazed, as if he wasn't sure if this was all really happening or not.

Tommy honked and the guy moved out of the way.

"Uh... what are they running from?" asked Sarah nervously. Her hand was still holding onto her uncle's arm.

"Doesn't matter, we need to get through and find a way to that checkpoint," replied her uncle.

Richard asked doubtfully, "Are you sure there's a way through the town?"

"There's gotta be," Tommy said with more confidence than he felt, and they all knew it. The highway was right next to the other edge of town so there had to be a way up to it from there, even if they had to go on foot.

There was a break in the crowd of people and Tommy took this chance to drive around the bus, nearly running some people over in the process but thankfully avoiding that. Now at least they were through that blockage. Driving through the next intersection, it was Becky who yelled from the backseat, "Watch out!" before a car speeding down the road to their left slammed violently into the truck with a resounding crash, shattering glass and bending steel.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Ellie drifted in total darkness. She couldn't feel anything, not even her own body. She couldn't hear or smell. There was just her consciousness, an awareness of self, and the nothingness that surrounded her.

Was she dead? Was this what it was like to die? With a growing sense of horror she tried to move, to do anything, but she was stuck there in that dark space. Unable to do anything but think.

Even back when they were experimenting on her she had never felt this way, mostly because she was too drugged up to feel or even think anything while unconscious. If this was death, then she was ready to be back in the land of the living again. Or maybe even just cease to exist altogether instead of staying in this dark void. Of all the things to be afraid of, she was most terrified of being alone. And now here she was all by herself in what looked to be a space of eternal darkness. Absolutely fucking fantastic.

How long she drifted in that state, she didn't know. There was no way to tell the passage of time. It may have been as short as a few seconds or as long as a few hours. But eventually something changed. It was a familiar feeling that made itself known to her once again. Pain. A simple flare up at first, like being prodded hard with a stick, and it faded away quickly enough that she thought at first that she might have imagined it on her way to going crazy from being alone in this void. But then it came back and lasted longer than the first time.

While the pain was certainly unpleasant, she couldn't help but be elated at the return of some sense of feeling. She couldn't be dead. If she were dead, she wouldn't be able to feel pain or anything at all. At least that's what she thought, and so that meant she was still somehow alive. But why couldn't she move?

The pain grew until it became persistent. And suddenly she felt some force pulling on her. No longer was she adrift in this sea of black nothingness as something took hold of her and started pulling her along rapidly until with a jolt she awoke, the restraints of her seat kept her firmly in place, and the jarring motion of trying to abruptly move but being stopped by the restraints added another wave of hurt to the pain she was feeling.

Ellie gasped and her eyes fluttered open. It was dark, and what little she could see was fuzzy and out of focus. She started to feel dizzy so she shut her eyes and tried to ride it out. It was hard to ignore all the pains that began to crop up and make themselves known.

Every part of her body was apparently hurting, but her chest, neck, and head had the worst of it. She imagined that this was what it must feel like to be stuffed into a steel barrel and thrown off the side of a cliff. A very high and jagged cliff. And in the steel barrel with her there were rocks. Not that the pain was that big of a deal. She was hurting sure, but alive, and that was more than enough to be thankful for given the situation.

A particularly strong throbbing pain announced itself from her right knee and she touched it gingerly, wincing at even the slightest pressure that her fingertips had applied. She hoped it wasn't broken somehow. She had never broken any bones before so she couldn't tell, but it hurt like hell.

As if trying not to be outdone, the throbbing in her head grew until it drowned out the pain from her knee. She still felt dizzy, although slightly less so than earlier. It was then that she became aware of a sticky liquid along the side of her face and a stinging pain on the top left side of her head. Reaching up slowly with an aching arm she touched the part where it hurt, hissing a little as it stung. She felt liquid on her fingers and inspected them through very squinted eyes, noting the blood. That wasn't good. She was bleeding.

Ellie was finding it difficult to breathe, each breath taken with painful difficulty and yet was short and shallow. Unsatisfying. She felt like she wasn't getting enough oxygen. She focused on on her breathing, trying to smooth it out. Her chest felt tight and constricted, as if her lungs were being squeezed and unable to expand to their full size. She did what she could.

She felt like an absolute mess and was starting to think that maybe being dead wasn't so bad after all. Opening her eyes once more as her sight finally came into focus, Ellie looked around before jolting in horror upon recognizing the broken corpse of the co-pilot draped across the middle of the controls console.

There was blood everywhere and the upper half of his upper torso was poking out through the windows. His limbs looked bent at odd angles and she gagged at the gruesome sight, the urge to vomit rising but she quickly forced it down with a concentrated effort. A long time of living in her own filth had made her fairly proficient at controlling her vomiting.

"Holy shit," she whispered, and the words scraped at her dry throat, eliciting a painful coughing fit.

Thank goodness she was strapped in to the seat, otherwise she would probably be decorating the cockpit with her blood as well. Looking away from the corpse, she glanced over to the pilot's seat where Joel was supposed to be and was surprised, and more than a little panicked, to find that he wasn't there. Where the hell did he go? Did he leave her? Did he think that she was dead?

Quickly, she reached a hand towards the lock mechanism of the restraining belts strapped over her chest, realizing that it was partly to blame for her restricted breathing. It took a little fiddling but she managed to detach the belts. She breathed a little easier, but her breaths were still painful and shallow. Carefully, Ellie moved to her feet, putting most of her weight on her left leg. She made sure not to look at the corpse again, though it was hard to ignore it completely as it was still in her peripheral vision. There was only so much space in the cockpit.

"Joel?" she called out, coughing again. There was some smoke drifting into the cockpit from outside, as well as flickering yellow-orange light that provided a dim illumination in the otherwise dark space. She waved her hand through the air in an attempt to clear some of the smoke away. "Joel, where are you?" she repeated and waiting, but there was no reply.

Although the cockpit was mostly, and thankfully, structurally intact, the interior was a mess. There were broken parts, debris, and dirt all around. And blood too. She tried to ignore it. Limping towards the jagged hole where the cockpit door used to lead to the rest of the plane, but now simply opened up to the chilly outside, she found herself in awe at the sight of the rest of the crash in front of her.

Strewn all across the broken earth were pieces of the Learjet. Some pieces were on fire, which explained the smoke in the air, and most of the parts were damaged and mangled. The ground itself had a long trench freshly dug into it. A nasty and fiery scar on the earth. The entire crash brightened the immediate area considerably thanks to all the fires, but a vast darkness spread beyond the edges of the fiery light.

It hit her then: she could have died. Probably should have. Whether it was fate or dumb luck, she was grateful to still be drawing breath, even if every breath was rather painful at the moment and her head felt like the target of a hundred angry woodpeckers.

"Joel?" she yelled again, looking around and not finding a hint of him anywhere. Where the hell did he go?

The thought crossed her mind that he might have died. That maybe, just maybe, he had been thrown completely out the cockpit window and into a bloody mess when they crashed. But she refused to believe that. He had to be alive. He had to be here. He had saved her from the Phoenix Corps, and now he had to save her from this mess too. He just had to.

She bent down slowly and sat at the edge of the back of the cockpit with her legs hanging off the edge. The floor of the cockpit was several feet off the ground. She looked down at where she wanted to go. Her injured knee throbbed, as if anticipating the fall. This was probably going to hurt. She slid off and tried to land only on her left leg, grunting as it took the brunt of her weight before she lost balance and fell heavily to the ground on her left side.

"Ow," she groaned. At least she was able to avoid injuring her right knee any further. Though now her left side was in pain, so she spent a few minutes on the ground to gather herself before she gingerly got back to her feet and took a good look around.

The nose of the plane was badly dinged up and scratched, yet remained mostly intact having detached from the rest of the fuselage. In contrast, the body and tail of the plane did not fare so well, as evidenced by the chaotic trail of wreckage behind the nose of the plane.

Ellie looked out into the distance, hoping to see any lights that would indicate that they had crashed somewhere near civilization. Unfortunately for her, however, there didn't appear to be any lights anywhere at all other than the fires from the wreckage. But maybe there was terrain in the distance blocking her view. She didn't want to consider the possibility that they had crash-landed in the middle of nowhere.

She blew air out of her mouth in frustration and then carefully returned to the back of the cockpit, her injured knee buckling slightly once she got there and she hissed, face scrunching up in pain, but it held. She wasn't going to get far with this injury, that was for sure. Adjusting her backpack so that the straps sat more comfortably on her shoulders, she limped towards a nearby rock, a little frustrated and more than a little afraid.

She sat down so as to take some pressure off of her injured leg and to think about what to do next. If she couldn't find Joel, she would have to fend for herself, and while that was a daunting task she knew that she could do it. How hard could it be to take care of herself in this place... wherever this was? She figured that the first thing she ought to do was to scrounge up any useful supplies from the wreckage. A part of her was afraid that it was still too dangerous to walk around the crash site since things were on fire and therefore might explode, but she needed to find supplies - food and water especially. Yes. That would be a good start.

Just as she was mustering the willpower to get back up and begin to scavenge, a familiar voice called to her and she immediately felt better about her situation.

"Ellie!" Joel's voice called out as he caught sight of her. He was coming from the direction of the wreckage. Bathed in the light of the fires, Ellie took a good look at him, hoping that she wasn't somehow imagining his sudden appearance. There were a few cuts and scrapes on his exposed skin and tears on his clothes, but otherwise he seemed fine. Slung over one shoulder with his arm holding the edges was what looked to be a blanket turned into a makeshift sack. He stopped a few paces away from her.

"You're awake," he stated the obvious.

While she was happy to see him, she was also rather upset. "You left me alone!" She said accusingly.

Sure, she barely knew him and was still not quite sure why they had come for her, which meant that she could not completely trust him, but he _did_ save her from the bastards that had her locked up for years. Plus, he was all she had at the moment.

"You were passed out," he replied flatly. He was standing a few feet away from her now.

"You could've woken me up," she responded, crossing her arms. "Or at least taken me out of there. What if it blew up while I was still inside?"

"I didn't want to move you too much in case you were seriously hurt or somethin'," he raised an eyebrow at her, "And the cockpit ain't something that blows up. Where'd you hear that? Besides, it's safer in there than out here, where other things might blow up. You know, the things that are actually _on fire_."

She had to admit that he had a point, but she was also stubborn. "Well... you still shouldn't have left me alone."

They were silent for a few heartbeats, Joel standing with his makeshift sack and Ellie sitting on a rock with her backpack still across her back.

"Are you hurt?" Joel finally broke the quiet that had settled, moving closer and peering at her.

"What kind of a question is that?" She looked away, annoyed.

He let out a sigh and then put down the blanket sack, the sound of metallic items rustling around emanating from inside it. "Come here. Let me take a look at you."

"What are you..."

He closed the distance between them and then reached out with both hands to examine her head, apparently catching sight of the blood that was there.

"Ow!" Ellie yelped, flinching away from his hands though he held her strongly enough to keep her from moving much. "Careful..." she said in mild annoyance, then quietly she asked, "How bad is it?"

He let go of her head. "Not too bad from what I can see. Shallow cut from something hitting your head during the crash, but that's all it takes for it to bleed a lot since your head gets a lot of blood pumped to it. The bleeding's slowed though and it's already starting to scab over so you should be fine. Are you hurting anywhere else?"

"I'm hurting _everywhere_ else," she replied curtly.

Joel gave her a look. "Ellie..."

"My neck hurts a lot," she admitted.

"Whiplash," he said matter-of-factly. "How bad does it hurt?"

She rolled her head a little to test her neck, wincing at the discomfort and slight pain. "Not too bad right now, really. Not as bad as when I first woke up."

"It'll pass. Not much we can do about it anyway. Anything else?"

She pointed to her right knee. "My knee... it really hurts when I put pressure on it."

He crouched down and carefully held either side of her knee and she breathed in sharply in anticipation of the pain from his touch, though it wasn't as bad as she was expecting. "Tell me when it hurts more," he said, then began to lightly put pressure on several parts of her knee, starting on the sides and moving inward. When his fingers touched her patella she hissed, the pain flaring considerably.

" _That_ hurts!"

Joel let go of her knee and scratched his chin, eyeing the knee thoughtfully. "Well, you might have a fractured patella. Maybe even a ligament tear, but we won't know for sure 'til you get an x-ray..."

"And where are we going to find an x-ray, Joel? Do you happen to have one with you?"

He gave her another look. "Not now, obviously." He looked back at her knee. "Can you walk?"

Ellie realized she was being a little harsh and relaxed slightly. "A little. I was able to limp over here from the cockpit with some bearable pain and I was able to walk around a bit, but..." she trailed off. She was not sure how she would hold up walking for longer distances. She looked back to trace her steps, figuring that she had managed to get about twenty to thirty feet before ending up resting on the rock. And it had taken a lot to even go that short of a distance.

He seemed to understand what she was getting at. Joel started looking around for something and Ellie was about to ask him what it was when he went off and grabbed some loose pieces of metal nearby before returning to the blanket bag that he had put together, taking another folded up blanket inside and tearing it up into strips.

"Are you making a splint?" she asked.

He grunted in reply as he walked over to her with his newly acquired materials. "We need to immobilize the knee, or at least try our best to." He paused as he knelt down in front of her, catching her gaze. "I'm going to need to rip off your right pant leg. It'll be easier that way."

She shrugged, not caring much. "Go for it." The pants were filthy and worn anyway. She couldn't even remember the last time it had been washed.

Ellie watched as he took out a very sharp knife that he had sheathed to his thigh and carefully cut up her pant leg a few inches above her knee. Once he got that off, revealing a large purplish bruise all over her knee, he wrapped the knee up tightly with one of the strips of blanket before setting up the metal rods and wrapping those tightly into place as well. It hurt every now and again while he was working, and she hissed every time it did, but she tried her hardest not to move or make too much noise.

"All done," he stated as he stood back up, both of them admiring his handiwork. He gave a nod of satisfaction after looking it over to make sure it was good.

"Thanks," she said, unsure of what else to say. She then noticed that Joel was giving her a strange look.

"You know, you're taking all of this fairly well," he gestured around at the wreckage.

Ellie looked up at him. "Maybe it just hasn't really hit me yet? I dunno. I feel everything hurting, does that count? How am I supposed to feel about all this exactly?"

Joel shrugged. "Not sure. I just... you're a lot calmer than I would have expected, that's all."

"I guess," she said, noncommittally.

"Well..." he let out a long breath, looking around, "We can't travel much in the dark so we'll have to wait 'til mornin'. But I was hoping we could make for a nearby hill or mountain, somewhere where we can get a better view of the land. See where we might go from there."

She grimaced at the thought of making it up a hill, let alone a mountain, in her condition. Assuming she could even make it all the way to a hill or mountain from here. It was going to hurt a lot, she was sure, and even if she managed it the trek would take far longer than it normally would had she not injured her knee.

"I was also hoping to maybe find some nearby shelter, like a cave or somethin', but since you're hurt and it's going to rain soon," he continued, looking down at her, "We'll stay in the cockpit for now."

She gave him an incredulous look. "You're kidding, right?"

"About what?"

"The cockpit. We're... going to be staying in there? For like, the _whole_ night?"

Joel raised an eyebrow at her. "What's the problem?"

"Umm... I don't know if you've noticed, Joel, but there's like... blood everywhere. And that guy... he died in there. I mean, he's _dead_. Like, deader than dead." That was gross to even think about, sleeping in a place where someone had just died and where that someone's blood covered half the place. She shuddered at the thought. "And are you even sure it's not going to blow up?"

"There ain't a lot of other options, Ellie," he said. "If it makes you feel better, I'll get him outta there and try and clean the place up a little."

Ellie looked up at the dark sky, noting that she couldn't see any stars. "How do you even know it's going to rain?"

"I just know. Now stay put," he said as he moved off towards the cockpit.

She sighed. "Does it look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon?" she muttered after him.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Tommy came to slowly, groaning as he moved, feeling sharp pinpricks all over his exposed skin and hearing the sounds of crackling and scratching glass with every movement. He felt gravity pulling him sideways and realized that the truck was flipped onto its right side. Still somewhat dazed, he faintly heard Sarah stirring in her seat next to him. Half-turning he saw that everyone else was also starting to come to their senses. They were all still alive. That was a good sign.

The ringing in his ears began to fade, and it was then that he heard the screaming. Panic filling him, Tommy stared out the heavily cracked windshield and saw people running around for their lives. A truck that had gone into a telephone pole across from where his own truck lay had blood all over the inside of the windshield, the driver's side door wide open.

"Uncle Tommy...?" Sarah said blearily.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, careful to make sure he had a firm hold so that he wouldn't fall on top of Sarah. Small pieces of glass fell from where they had been resting on him as he moved down towards her and unbuckled her seat belt for her. "You okay sweetie?"

She nodded faintly, her breathing quick and shallow. "Yeah... I think so."

Glancing back to the other passengers he asked if they were okay too.

"I think we're fine. Just some cuts and bruises," Richard said as he looked his family over and his wife nodded to confirm.

"You see my shotgun anywhere? I tossed it back there earlier," he said and the other man looked around and then grabbed it from the floor, handing it to him. "Thanks. You have a weapon?"

Richard nodded grimly. "I got my pistol." That would do.

Looking back out through the windshield, Tommy said, "We need to get the hell out of here."

Positioning himself so that he could kick out at the windshield, he told Sarah to look away in case any stray glass came flying. With some effort he bent his right leg and then slammed his boot into the windshield, eliciting a cracking sound as it gave a little, but held. He kicked it again. On his third kick, the whole windshield went flying a few feet away onto the asphalt.

While he was doing that Richard managed to get out by climbing up through his door and was now standing on top of the truck, helping his family up that way. He and Tommy shared a look as people continued to run around them, screaming in terror.

"Come on, Sarah." Tommy stepped out of the truck and turned to help Sarah out, but not before someone ran towards him snarling much in the same way as the patient from the hospital earlier. He managed to get his arm out and halt the man's advance as he snapped at him with his bared teeth, blood and saliva covering his chin and the area around his mouth, staring at him with bloodshot eyes. The man started to slap and scratch at him with his hands, trying desperately to get closer.

"Uncle Tommy!" Sarah exclaimed in dismay, pressing herself against the hood of the truck as Tommy fought against the crazed man, her eyes wide with fear.

Just then, Richard smacked the man's head hard with the butt of his pistol, causing a slight spray of blood as the man went down limp. Richard glanced at the now dead man and then back to Tommy with a troubled look in his eyes, both of them speechless. This was really happening.

"We need to get going!" Becky yelled and both men snapped out of it and started moving, Tommy grabbing Sarah's hand and Richard grabbing his wife's.

All around them the town was in chaos. Fires and smoke were everywhere. Windows, doors, and even some walls were broken and damaged. There were people getting attacked by the crazed ones and of course everyone else who was running away from them.

They ran down the street, Becky carrying Ricky since the little boy wasn't fast enough to keep up with them all. Plus he was scared out of his mind and crying, and no matter what Becky said he wouldn't stop. Not that anyone could blame the little kid. As they made it to the next intersection a car driving a block ahead began to spin out of control and careened into the gas station on the corner in a terrifying crash. A second later the whole place exploded with a tremendous force and a bright ball of flame. The ground shook, and they all staggered a bit from the concussive force of the blast, though they stayed on their feet. The heat from the inferno that was once the gas station could be felt all the way from where they were standing.

"This way!" Richard urged as they followed the crowd of people running down another street.

They ran further into town where more buildings and even some people were on fire. Their screams of agony made him cringe and he felt Sarah's grip tighten on his hand.

"Uncle Tommy, those people... they're on fire..." Sarah's voice sounded numb.

"Don't look, Sarah. Just... Just don't look," he said as they moved along, trying to ignore them himself and failing miserably. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and she gripped his even harder.

They continued to run, all of them breathing hard from the effort. There was a theater up ahead at the end of the street and people were running towards it, but a burning car rolled down the street ahead and several of the crazed people appeared after it, jumping on some of those who had been fleeing that way.

"There's too many of them!" exclaimed Richard as he held his family close, brandishing his pistol. Tommy noted that it appeared to be a 9mm.

Looking around, Tommy spotted an alleyway and pointed it out to them. "C'mon! Over here!" He ran towards the chain link gate that barred the way and eyed the padlock that secured it. Letting go of Sarah's hand, he held the shotgun with both hands and raised it butt-side down before slamming the butt of the stock into the lock, loosening it. A second hit loosened it some more.

A gunshot sounded from behind him, making him and Sarah jump, his niece gripping his shirt for comfort. Richard yelled for him to hurry as another gunshot echoed through the chaos.

Finally, a third smack with the shotgun broke the lock, which dropped to the ground. He swiveled the latch up and swung the gate open. "Everyone in!"

They all made it through and Tommy shut the gate, replacing the latch and hoping that these crazed people weren't smart enough to swivel it back up. Sure enough, one of them spotted the group in the alley and ran up to the gate, snarling at them as she tried to push through it to no avail. That answered his question and he was grateful for it.

"Ahhh!" he heard Richard yell and he turned to find one of the crazed people was attaching him, blood on his arm where he had apparently gotten bit. His pistol was on the ground and Becky was cowering with Ricky a few feet away, holding the boy close so that he wouldn't see what was going on.

Tommy immediately ran forward and swung the shotgun like a batter going for a home run, the stock crushing the man's face and snapping his head back, the neck cracking audibly as blood sprayed out behind the man from his broken face. He turned to Richard, holding a hand out to help him up.

"You okay?"

"He fucking bit me! The fucker!" He yelled angrily, breathing hard and looking at the bloody wound. Those were definitely teeth marks. "But I'm alright. It ain't that bad. Thanks for that by the way."

"We're even now," Tommy told him and the man couldn't help but grin at that, shaking his head in disagreement.

"No. I still owe you for stopping your car and picking us up back there. We might've been attacked by those crazies at the hospital if it weren't for you."

"Guys!" Sarah got their attention and she pointed to a chain link fence that blocked another alleyway that led to the alley they were in. Several of the crazy people trying to force their way through it, snarling and making guttural noises. Parts of the fence were giving way already, and they could see more of the crazies coming down the alleyway.

"That's not going to hold for much longer. C'mon let's get out of here," Tommy said and Richard quickly went over to his family, who were still shaking in terror and he tried to reassure them he was fine as they continued to move forward.

The alley led to an outside eating area for a restaurant that was in the middle of the block between all the buildings.

"Shit! They're coming over the damn wall!" Richard yelled as he aimed and shot at one who was about to scamper over, making the crazy fall back the other side. Either it was a lucky shot, or his aim was really good.

"Into the restaurant!" Tommy led the way, shotgun held firmly in his hands as he opened the door and ushered them all inside. As he was closing the door, three of the crazies managed to get to it and it was all he could do to brace against it and prevent them from coming in.

"Rich!" Becky caught her husband's attention as the man had kept going towards the front of the restaurant. He turned and saw Tommy trying to keep the crazies out and he started to make his way back to him to help out, pistol at the ready.

"No! Stop!" Tommy yelled. "I'll... ugh... I'll be fine... Ughh... You guys keep going. Get... ugh... Get to the highway! I'll meet... ugh... you there," his speech was punctuated by his grunts as he pushed his back against the door, gripping his shotgun in one hand and another hand pressed against the door to give him more leverage. The crazies were clawing at the partially open door, growling, their hands reaching out to grab on to anything.

"But..." Richard started to say as he stepped forward and Sarah was also beginning to protest when Tommy glared at them all, snarling and waving his hand to shoo them away.

"I said GO damn it!"

- **xxxVxxx** -

Sarah was so overwhelmed with what was going on that she didn't really have much time to process anything other than that she needed to follow Richard and Becky, their very young son Ricky still whimpering in her arms. They left uncle Tommy like he told them to and emerged from the restaurant into the parking lot out front.

To their right, someone who had been running away from one of the crazies was tackled to the ground and immediately mauled, causing Becky and Sarah to scream.

"This way!" barked Richard, motioning for the group to move left and away from the crazies.

There was a cement wall around the edge of the parking lot, but one section of it was broken through by what looked to be one of the vehicles that had previously been in the parking lot. Sure enough, as they ran through the breach and down a muddy slope right behind it, they saw the wreckage of an overturned ambulance at the bottom of a dip between the hills ahead of them, it's headlights still on and emergency lights still flashing.

Behind them, the noisy sounds that the crazed people had been making seemed to be getting louder and Sarah chanced a look back. She instantly wished she hadn't as she caught sight of two crazies chasing after them closely and a third not too far back trying to catch up. They were all moving strangely, snarling and covered in blood.

"They're right behind us!" she cried.

Richard, who had been at the front of the group since they left the restaurant, turned in response and briefly let loose several shots from his pistol, hitting both of the crazed bastards in their torsos a few times. The gunshot wounds only seemed to mildly inconvenience them as they continued to chase after the group.

"What the hell! Why won't they go down?!" He yelled in dismay as he turned and ran, now at the back of the group and a few steps behind Sarah. The closest crazy was dangerously close behind now.

Passing by the overturned ambulance at the bottom of the hill, Sarah noticed someone crawling out from the front cab. It was a paramedic, and he was making the gurgling, growling, and deranged noises that the other infected were making. His movements were jerky and unnatural as he clambered to his feet.

They all ran as fast as they could. Two loud booms sounded from somewhere behind them.

Sarah's face was covered with sweat, tears, and dirt. Her legs and lungs were burning from the exertion as she pushed herself to run faster, adrenaline the only thing keeping her from dropping down and curling into a frightened ball. She felt like she had never run so fast in her life. She kept telling herself that she didn't want to die, the thought spurring her on beyond the physical limit of what she would have thought possible for herself.

Where was her dad? Where was her uncle Tommy? She needed them here. Now.

Her heart was practically exploding in her chest and her legs were tightening up. She wasn't going to make it much farther, and the prospect of being killed terrified her. She could see from the way Becky was running that she was going on fumes, especially since she had been carrying Ricky this entire time. It was a wonder she had not tired out sooner or even fallen down yet.

"Don't look back!" Richard yelled as he wildly fired off some more shots behind him. "Just. A little. More. We're almost. To. The highway!" he managed between breaths, trying to urge them on.

They were soon ascending up the next hill, the crazies getting even closer now. Becky stumbled, Ricky falling to the ground as she wasn't able to hold on. Richard cried out in horror. Sarah nearly tripped over them, but managed to sidestep at the last moment. She slowed to a stop, torn between the desire to keep running and the need to help them.

Time seemed to slow down for a brief moment as she looked back in horror. Richard was helping his wife back up with one hand while firing shots with the pistol in his other hand at the approaching crazies. Then his pistol clicked empty.

Becky was scrambling to get back on her feet while also picking up her son who was crying his eyes out. The crazies were almost on top of them.

Then gunfire suddenly erupted from farther up the hill , causing them all to flinch and duck. Seconds later, the crazed noises behind them were instantly silenced.

Looking uphill towards the highway, Sarah saw what appeared to be a uniformed soldier with a chemical warfare gas mask on and his assault rifle held high. The flashlight modded onto the barrel of his rifle was bearing down on them, somewhat blindingly, but they didn't mind at the moment. He had saved them from certain death. A few more seconds and the crazed people would have been all over them.

Richard, who had fallen to cover his wife and child, spoke first. "Oh, thank God... Thank God... Thank you..." He hugged his family, all of them in tears and visibly shaking, both from sheer terror and from the exertion of running as fast as they could.

Sarah hunched over and looked at them with watery eyes, her own breathing ragged. She realized then how close they had come to dying. She glanced back towards the soldier ahead who seemed to be talking to someone through his radio.

"Where's... where's my uncle?" she asked, looking around half-expecting him to turn up right then. There had been a lot of those crazy people trying to get through that door back at the restaurant. She hoped he was okay.

It took Richard a moment to gather himself before he responded.

"Don't worry, Sarah, he'll be fine. He seems like he knows how to handle himself."

Sarah wasn't reassured by his words.

Noticing this, Richard added, "And if he doesn't make it here soon, I promise we'll go back for him once we get you guys to safety, okay? We just need to make sure you guys are taken care of first. I'm sure your uncle would agree."

After some quick words with his family, Richard quickly reloaded his pistol with a fresh mag that he had apparently stashed in one of his pants pockets. Then he stood up and shakily started to walk with a weary smile towards the soldier. "Thanks a lot, mister, we we're almost goners there..."

"Freeze!" yelled the soldier with hostility upon noticing Richard approaching. "Don't move. Don't come any closer." The soldier leveled his rifle at the man.

Richard immediately stopped ins his tracks and actually took a tentative step back, his eyes squinting as the light in his eyes made it difficult to see the soldier properly. His arms were outstretched to show that he did not mean any harm, in case the soldier decided he was somehow threatening. Though his pistol was still held loosely in his right hand, barrel pointing to the sky in a non-threatening manner.

"Whoa, there! Easy now, easy... we've... we've just been through hell, mister. Please, all we want... all _I_ want is to get my family to safety. Please, I'm begging you."

The soldier did not reply, instead speaking into a radio strapped onto his uniform close to the base of his neck. "Command, this is Gamma-Seven. I repeat, this is Gamma-Seven. I've got some civilians along the outer perimeter, please advise. Can anyone read me? Over."

Sarah stared at the tense exchange between them and edged closer to Becky, whispering, "What's... what's going on? Why is he pointing that gun at us?"

"Shh... stay behind me, okay Sarah?" Becky whispered back, glancing at the girl with fear in her eyes. She was shaking, and Ricky who was at her side, looked even more terrified than her.

The soldier repeated his request through the radio one more time, though he stopped halfway through it as there finally seemed to be a reply from whoever was on the other end of the radio. Sarah couldn't hear what the reply was, but what the soldier said next made her take a fearful step closer to Becky.

"But... sir... there's children..." the soldier said loud enough to be heard. His rifle lowered a bit.

"Look, buddy. I don't know what in the world is going on here... but, my family and I... we're not... we're not one of them, you hear? We're not sick, okay? We're not sick! You've gotta believe me! Please, we just need to get to somewhere safe," Richard edged a little to his side, positioning himself directly between the soldier and his family.

The soldier was still listening to his radio, either not hearing or ignoring Richard.

Somewhere close by two loud booms echoed across the night, one a few seconds after the other. It sounded like a shotgun.

"Understood... yes, sir." The soldier sounded simultaneously conflicted and resigned. He was silent as he slowly raised his rifle to aim at them, hesitating for a second.

"NO!" Richard yelled, voice cracking as he brought his pistol down and aimed at the soldier.

They fired at the same time.

Sarah screamed.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Tommy strained with all his might against the door, his legs beginning to shake from the effort. He watched gratefully as the others left the restaurant and then waited a couple more minutes, making sure they had enough of a head start before he booked it himself. He did not know how many of the infected crazies were on the other side, clawing and growling as they were against the door, and he did not really want to find out.

Gunfire sounded in the distance and he briefly wondered if that was Richard or somebody else. Then an idea came to him that might make it easier for him later on and he made sure to visualize what he wanted to do so that he would not have to think too much about it once he did it. He would need to do it quickly and properly if he was to have a better chance at surviving the next minute.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed one more time hard against the door and then bolted away from it as it then swung open and the crazies fell over themselves onto the floor. A few steps later he turned around and raised his shotgun.

Tommy fired, the shotgun booming loudly in his arms and kicking hard against his shoulder. He managed to take out two of the infected who were on the ground with that first shot. He pumped the shotgun and fired again, taking out a third that had been on the way back up to its feet and wounding a fourth behind it, causing it to fall backwards. Two more behind the fourth surged in and he decided it was time to run in case there were more behind them, barely escaping as one of them lunged at where he had stood a second earlier, crashing into a table and breaking some chairs with a snarl.

He ran out the front door and noticed the commotion in the parking lot towards the road off to his right so he went left deeper into the other half of the lot. There was a breach in the perimeter wall and he made for it, praying that the others had gone this way and not towards the road. On his heels were the two infected that chased him out of the restaurant, their snarls sounding feral.

Beyond the broken wall the ground sloped downward and Tommy noticed several tracks that continued onward, one set of car tires and several sets of footprints in the mud. He ran down the hill, the mud sticking to his boots in some places and slick in others, and just when he was putting some distance between him and the two infected on his tail, he turned around to track them and quickly lost his balance as a slick patch of mud that he hadn't seen sent him tumbling towards an overturned ambulance.

He growled in pain, his mind spinning slightly, but forced himself to look for his shotgun, which had slipped out of his hands when he fell. It was a few feet away and he scrambled towards it desperately, grabbing it and then turning onto his back quickly right before the closest of the two infected was about to jump on him.

BOOM.

The infected man was thrown back, chest blown open in a bloody spray. Before he could pump another round in, the second infected was almost on top of him, and he crossed the gun horizontally over his own chest as the infected, a woman with messy black hair and bloodshot, feral eyes, predictably jumped on top of him. She snarled, clawing at him and scratching at his arms and face as he pushed against the shotgun, which was now pressing against her upper chest and close to her neck, keeping her at bay.

She was not very heavy, and were it not for the ferocity of her desire to attack him Tommy would have been able to throw her off sooner. He eventually managed to do so, letting up on the shotgun a little and then pressing up on it swiftly while simultaneously kicking up with his legs and throwing her off to the side. Tommy managed to partially get up and turn before she lunged at him again, the shotgun still in front of him and keeping her away.

He was pushed back, not having set his feet enough, and hit his back roughly against the side of the ambulance as she pressed against him and he grimaced, the air somewhat knocked out of him. Gritting his teeth, he pivoted slightly and slammed the butt of the shotgun against her face, the impact staggering her for a moment. He pumped the shotgun and unloaded into the woman's torso, another loud boom following, and she fell backwards to the mud with a wet smack. She did not move any more after that.

Breathing heavily, he fumbled with putting some more shells from his pockets into the shotgun, thankful that he had grabbed some extras back at the house. He had a feeling he was going to need every single one of them before they were safe. He was content for the moment with catching his breath until he heard gunfire on the next hill towards the highway, immediately followed by screaming.

"Sarah," he breathed, wide-eyed as he realized he recognized the voice. He forced himself into a run up the hill, ignoring the pains his body was complaining about.

When he saw several bodies on the ground farther up on the hill, his heart nearly stopped, assuming the worst. Then to his relief he noticed the figures huddled on the ground several more feet up the hill. They sounded like they were crying, but that meant that they were at least alive. One of them was Sarah, and he rushed over to her, dropping the shotgun as he dropped to his knees and engulfed her in a hug, not even caring about anything else for the moment.

"Uncle... Tommy?" her voice was barely above a whisper. She did not hug him back, her body mostly limp, as if she did not have the energy. She was shaking, her breaths short and quick. He noticed the trail of tears down her cheeks and her pained, watery eyes.

"I'm here, sweetie. Everything's going to be okay," he whispered back, realizing that something was amiss. "Everything's going to be okay."

"Ricky..." she whispered the name sharply, her voice tightening. She buried her head into his chest.

Tommy finally took notice of the others.

A few feet away, lying on his back and staring lifelessly at the night sky was Richard. His pistol was still held limply in one hand. There were several dark spots across his upper body. Gunshot wounds.

"Oh no..." Tommy breathed, his heart sinking as he gaze landed on Becky.

She was holding Ricky tightly to her and the moonlight was bright enough for him to notice that there were dark spots on Ricky's clothes too. The boy seemed to be struggling to breathe, each short breath a labored and pained wheeze. Becky was uttering soothing words to him, though too softly for him to hear.

"Becky," he said, realizing that they had to do something other than sit here and watch the boy die. "Becky..." he tried, a little louder.

She did not notice, lost in her sobbing and moaning, thinking he was as good as dead.

"Becky!" he finally yelled, this time managing to catch her attention, "Becky, there's an ambulance back there. We could still save him. There's some medical supplies and... We have to... we have to try."

Her dark eyes looked at him with such pain that he had to turn away, unable to take it.

"He's already gone..." she said in a broken voice.

Tommy could not believe what he was hearing. "He's not... he's not gone yet, Becky. Didn't you hear me? There's an ambulance down there. We can still try and save him."

Becky slowly shook her head, looking back down at the dying boy in her arms. "It's too late..."

"We have to at least try!" he urged her, but she would not listen and he was forced to watch helplessly as the little boy edged closer to the end. It did not take much longer before Ricky stopped breathing, his wheezing turning into sudden silence.

Sarah reached around and finally hugged him tightly and all Tommy could do was shake his head in disbelief, unable to comprehend why this woman wouldn't even try to save her child when there was a chance to do so. A very very slim chance, for sure, but a chance nonetheless. He thought maybe the death of her husband had something to do with her sudden loss of will.

Thinking about Richard made him look back at the shot up corpse. Who shot him? Tommy looked around, trying to find the shooter. It was a little too dark to make out who it was, but there was a body further up the hill, and next to the body was what looked to be an automatic rifle with a flashlight mounted on it. The light was still on, though it was pointing off towards the side and illuminating nothing but mud and rocks.

Tommy glanced back at Becky, who was still clutching her child. "I'm so sorry, Becky," he said softly, unsure of what else to say or do at the moment.

They were silent for a time, only the sobbing from Becky and Sarah breaking through the night. Occasionally, gun shots could be heard in the distance, but nowhere near them. The dull echo of an explosion finally seemed to shake Becky out of it as she started to move, gently placing Ricky on the ground and standing up, albeit somewhat shakily.

Tommy watched her as she crouched over Richard, holding his hand with both her own.

"The bastards..." she said venomously. The moonlight glinted off her tear-stained cheeks, her face scrunched up in anger. "They were... they were supposed to keep us safe," she spat, looking up the hill towards the dead soldier. "They were supposed to fucking protect us!"

Tommy did not know what to say and thought it best to keep silent.

Becky let go of Richard's hand and reached for his pistol.

Tommy let go of Sarah and leaned to the side to reach for his shotgun, keeping a wary eye towards the woman who was undoubtedly no longer in a right state of mind. Not that he could blame her.

"Sarah, just stay behind me, okay?" He whispered. "And close your eyes. Don't... don't look, you hear me?" he whispered, getting up into a crouch.

"U-Uncle T-Tommy?" asked Sarah, confused.

He gently pushed her to move a bit and then got between her and Becky, who was holding the pistol in her hands as she stared at her dead husband.

"Shh.. just do as I say, Sarah. Okay, honey?" Tommy slowly got to his feet, bringing Sarah up with him.

She was clutching tightly at the back of his shirt.

"Why?" Becky asked no one in particular. "Why did they do it? Why?" she was starting to sound hysterical, searching for an answer that was never coming. Then Becky stood up, wiping away tears with the back of her hand as she trudged up the hill, ignoring Tommy and Sarah. She came to a stop by the corpse of the soldier and then started shooting the body, firing off the rounds point-blank, each shot making Sarah flinch behind him.

Tommy stared wide-eyed before he yelled at her to stop.

"Becky!"

Tommy held his shotgun in both hands, ready to draw it up and fire at a moment's notice if necessary, though he was careful not to make that too obvious in case Becky noticed and felt threatened. He didn't want to make her do anything rash if he could help it.

"It's over, Tommy," Becky said, her voice strangely calm now. "It's all over. All over." The woman was still sobbing, but noticeably less than before.

"What... what do you mean by that, Becky?"

She slowly walked back towards them, causing Tommy to tense up as she came to a stop over the bodies of her family a few feet away from where Tommy and Sarah stood, gun still in hand. She was staring down at them when she spoke again, her face a shadow.

"Everything's over. Don't you see, Tommy? The world is really ending. This is it. We're all... we're all going to end up like this," she motioned towards the bodies. "Dead."

Tommy could feel Sarah gripping him tighter.

"Becky..." he started to say.

"Either those _things_ are going to get you, or the army will. You see what they've done? They shot my husband... and... and even my... precious little boy. They shot them. In cold blood. They didn't even give us a chance," she said in a severely pained voice. "They're not here to help us, Tommy. It's all over. We're all going to die. They're not here to help, they're here to kill us all. Sick or not." Her eyes flashed over to him, apparently realizing something. "I can help you end it, Tommy. You and Sarah. You don't have to go through this any longer. You don't have to suffer through what I am going through right now."

Tommy slowly raised an open hand towards the woman who had just lost everything, attempting to calm her down. "Now, hold on just a minute, Becky... let's... let's think about this."

"I've already thought about it, Tommy. I already know the _truth_. We're all as good as dead... can't you see that? So why wait? Why put yourself through the misery and suffering of living a little longer when you can just end it right here? I can make it painless for you."

"No!" he growled. "No way. I can't accept that. I won't just give up like that." He brought his hand back to the shotgun and gripped the hard steel as firmly as he spoke his words, though he still didn't aim it at her.

"So what are you going to do? The army isn't here to help us, Tommy. They're here to kill us all. It's a purge, not a rescue. And there are those _things_ out there trying to kill you every chance they get." She was really sounding like she had lost her mind, although there was a small voice in Tommy's head that kind of agreed with her. He did his best to ignore that voice. It was too cynical and hopeless a view for him. As long as he had breath in him he was going to fight to survive and to protect what mattered most to him: his family.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we survive," he replied simply.

"You really think you can do that?" she asked, sounding almost amused. "After everything you've seen?"

"I sure as hell am going to try."

"My husband tried. _We_ tried... and look what happened. They're dead, Tommy. They're dead... oh God they're dead..." her voice cracked and she stopped talking.

Tommy did not respond to that, though that was a response in itself, and he slowly raised the shotgun a little higher. He had a bad feeling he was going to have to use it once more that evening.

"I'm going to offer you this chance one last time," said Becky, taking a deep breath, "Can't you see I'm trying to help you? I can save you from all this pain, this terrible, awful pain. This emptiness that swallows you whole." She suddenly pointed the pistol at them. "You just have to say so."

"Please don't, Becky," he said immediately, in case she decided not to wait for a response. "Please... you don't want to do this and I'm sure that... _they_ wouldn't want you to this," Tommy said, raising his shotgun in response and using it to motion towards her fallen family, ready to pull the trigger if he needed to and praying that he would not. "Please, Becky. I know you've... you've lost a lot, and it's really terrible and I'm sorry... but please don't make me and Sarah lose each other too."

Sarah seemed to sense that something bad was about to happen and started to sob again behind him.

Tommy and Becky continued to stare at each other unflinchingly with guns raised.

"Okay," she said at last, pointing the pistol up and away from them and causing Tommy to exhale and marginally relax. "I'm sorry," she added, tears streaming down her face.

Tommy still kept the shotgun trained at her in case she tried anything, but that was not her plan, however.

In a quick motion Becky brought the gun under her chin.

Tommy lowered his shotgun. "Becky, wait!"

There was nothing he could do but watch as she gave him a sad smile and then pulled the trigger. The shot made him flinch.

"Oh God," Tommy whispered, running a hand through his hair.

- **xxxVxxx** -

It started to rain about an hour after Joel had finished cleaning up the cockpit and brought her back into the cockpit. A light drizzle at first, the rain fell progressively harder until it was pouring buckets out there, extinguishing the fires that were still burning in the wreckage. She was grateful to be out of the rain, though the broken windshield of the cockpit was a bit of a problem.

Joel had covered it up as best as he could with any flat pieces of metal to act as a barrier, but water was coming in from the spaces he wasn't able to get. Not that it mattered much when the rain wasn't too bad but now that it was really coming down a lot more water was coming in.

Ellie was resting on the floor of the cockpit, since she couldn't get back into her seat with her leg in the splint that Joel made, her injured leg stretched out in front of her and her other leg bent up and supporting her chin as she rested her head on it with her back to the wall. A blanket was draped over her legs and she had to admit it was getting chilly and she was glad to have it. Shivering, she pulled the blanket over her some more as she glanced over at where Joel was sitting.

He was snoozing in the pilot's seat, not caring that he was getting somewhat wet from the water splattering into the cockpit from the leaks in his make-do windshield covering. Though it could also have been because he was already passed out and simply didn't notice. She had been watching him since he dozed off trying to figure him out, and once he was really under she noticed that he started twitching and mumbling, although she couldn't quite hear what he was muttering about thanks to the loud thrum of the pouring rain. Whatever he was dreaming about, it didn't seem to be pleasant.

The lone light they had was coming from a flashlight Joel managed to scrounge up among the wreckage. She was told not to keep it on for too long unnecessarily since it would waste the battery, but she liked the light, especially since it was so dark outside. He had also managed to find the storage cart that had the plane's snacks and pretty much took as much of it that he could fit into the makeshift blanket sack. It was mostly chips, crackers, cookies, and nuts, but it was far better than the nothing they had earlier.

The most important find was several dozen bottles of water and soda, and she had already finished two bottles of water and a couple of bags of chips since getting back into the cockpit. While she had been hesitant to go back in there, she at least felt better about it since he had cleaned up most of the blood and moved the body of the co-pilot elsewhere. And it wasn't like she had any other option.

A bright flash from the outside came through the cracks in Joel's makeshift barrier as well as through the doorway where he had managed to hang their remaining blanket so as to keep out the elements. A loud bang followed closely, the thunder continuing to rumble afterwards.

The bang had startled her because of how loud it was and it even woke Joel up with a start, the man leaning forward and blinking away the sleep while looking around with his hands gripping the armrests tightly.

"You mumble in your sleep," she remarked as his gaze traveled down to hold her own. "I hate bad dreams."

He sighed tiredly, rubbing his face and leaning back in the pilot's chair. "Yeah, me too."

"Do you believe in God? In fate and all that?" she asked out of the blue.

"What?" he said, taken aback by the line of questioning.

"Do you think that things happen for a reason? That God... or fate... or whatever... you know, has a plan for all of us."

"That's a strange thing to ask."

"Is it? I'm just curious..."

He seemed hesitant to reply, "I..."

She looked expectantly at him. "Just humor me, Joel. Please?"

He finally answered her, taking his time, "Well, I... I used to believe in God. As for fate and all that, well... the way I see it, if there was such a thing as fate, then what the hell reason is there to have free choice? If everythin' happens for a reason... then... then choice ain't a real thing now is it? And that doesn't sit too well with me 'cause I like to think that I make my own decisions, my own choices, and that I'm not followin' some predetermined path. I like to think I control my own destiny."

She was impressed by his answer, not expecting him to really give her one in the first place. She could definitely see herself agreeing with that. If fate really did exist, then free choice was just an illusion, because everything would already be predetermined. And what was the point in that?

"I see..." she said slowly. "That's a better answer than I was expecting," she admitted to him.

He glanced at her from over his shoulder, looking somewhat amused. "And what do you believe?"

She blew air out of her mouth. "I honestly don't know yet."

Joel chuckled. "That's a good answer too, Ellie."

There was a moment of silence between them before she spoke again.

"You know, even though we crashed our plane and barely made it out alive and all, I'm glad I'm out in the world again. It's been... a while... since I've seen the outside," she looked down at her injured leg. She was telling him the truth. Even though she had been terrifyingly close to dying and was currently injured, she was happy to be out of that terrible cage that had her in. Even eating the chips that Joel had brought was better than that stupid broth or the hard bread that they gave her day in and day out for what seemed like eons.

"How long were you in there?" he asked softly.

She didn't answer right away, thinking back to those awful memories. Her expression turned hard while she frowned. "I don't know anymore to be honest. I lost track when they started doing these stupid experiments on me, which was about two years after they got me."

"Experiments?" echoed Joel. His voice had an edge to it. "What in the hell were they doin' to you?"

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "Honestly, I don't know. All I know is the fuckers pumped me with drugs and a _lot_ of other shit I think. Because I blacked out often in the lab and then I'd wake up back in my cell with needle marks all over my arms and even some on my neck. That's how I lost track of time, and none of the assholes would ever tell me what the date was when I asked."

"Wait, you were there for... for two years _before_ they started... experimenting?" He was having trouble saying the word aloud, unable to fully accept that they would do that to a young girl like her.

"Yeah." Ellie shrugged. "There were a bunch of us there in the beginning, you know. But over the years we'd stop coming back from the lab, one by one. Eventually, it was... it was only me left." Thinking back to when she still had her friends there with her, she couldn't help the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She tried to control her breathing so as to prevent any sobs and managed to stifle it somewhat.

One of the reasons why she was so terrified of being alone was because after all her friends had gone, she felt so very isolated and lost in that cell for however long she was in there for. Even with all those guards around and the scientists at the lab, she had never felt so terribly lonely.

"You mean there were more kids?" Joel asked somberly. His voice was now tinged with sadness.

"We were all from the same orphanage. One day, the people there told us that some private company had bought them out and was transferring all the children over to England. They said that they meant to give us all a better life, but in the end they proceeded to lock us all up and take us away for experiments one by one. And there were other kids from other orphanages there too." A few tears escaped the watery confines of her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. In the dim cockpit though they were thankfully not noticeable, though the emotion was clearly there in her voice.

Joel was silent. Either he didn't know what to say, or he was waiting for her to finish, she wasn't sure.

"They told us," she continued, "They told us to trust them. That they'd take care of us and we'd move on to better and meaningful lives. And we believed them, Joel. We bought their bullshit right up to the point where they threw us into our fucking cells."

"I'm sorry," Joel said sincerely, looking over his shoulder at her.

Ellie laughed bitterly as she stared at the ceiling. "Sorry for what? That I'm an orphan? That those fuckers took all of us orphans, treated us like animals, and experimented on us? You didn't know. You weren't there. It wasn't your fault. So don't be fucking sorry." She didn't tell him that she wished she had died in that research facility too like the rest of her friends. While she didn't explicitly know whether or not they survived, she knew deep down that they didn't. That they were all dead.

Both of them were quiet for a while, thinking about how broken the world was while the rain continued drumming against the exterior of the cockpit.


	5. I'll Carry You

Sarah was numb as she watched her uncle wrestle with the banged up gurney blocking the way into the back of the overturned ambulance, her arms wrapped around herself in an effort to stay composed. She was finding it hard to believe everything that had happened so far. This all felt like one giant nightmare that she couldn't wake up from.

She had seen so much. Far too much. And she wanted to forget it all. She wished with all her might that this terrible nightmare would end and that she would wake up safe and sound back in her room at her uncle's house. But no matter how many times she pinched herself as they had walked back from the hill down to the ambulance, she did not wake up.

This was very real. This was actually happening. And she was absolutely terrified.

"Sarah?" her uncle called her, apparently a few times already from the way he sounded.

"Huh?"

"I've finished up in here," he said from inside the ambulance, motioning for her to come in.

It was very strange to walk into an overturned vehicle, with the floor being the ceiling and vice versa. The rear hold was spacious and the ceiling-turned-floor had been cleared up of most of the debris, the majority of which were medical supplies that had fallen out of the drawers, cabinets, and containers. She noted the splotches and trails of blood near the front cab area and decided to stay closer to the back doors, as far away from the front as possible.

Her uncle shut the doors behind her, fiddling with the lock for a moment until there was a satisfying click. They appeared to be sturdy enough to hold anything that might try and break through, though she did not like the idea of being trapped in here if something were to come along outside. If one or more of those _things_ showed up. . . she tried not to dwell on that thought for too long. Uncle Tommy had shut off the engine and turned both the headlights and the emergency lights off, which would hopefully help to keep them hidden and out of sight.

The fact that they were in a low gap in between two hills surrounded by giant rocks and a few trees helped some, especially at night, but once the sun came out they would stick out fairly easily. The ambulance was big and painted mostly white after all.

Her uncle had made it clear that they would need to leave at first light to find new shelter. For now, they would need to get what rest they could and stock up on supplies in the relative safety of the ambulance.

She sat down quietly, back resting against the side of the ambulance, curling her legs to her chest and hugging them. Her chin rested on the tops of her knees as she stared straight ahead, her eyes dry and stinging from all the tears she had shed recently.

"Here," uncle Tommy offered her one of the nutrient bars he had found on the dead soldier that he had looted along with a bottle of water. He had explained to her that looting the body was necessary when she had asked him what he was doing, and even though she felt it was wrong, she knew that he was only doing what was necessary to keep them alive.

They needed everything they could get their hands on to survive. Food, water, and medical supplies were at the top of her uncle's list, and thankfully they had all that. For now.

Some time passed before she stirred again, the nutrient bar lying forgotten by her feet. The bottle of water was almost empty. She had practically chugged it after he had given it to her.

At some point her uncle had turned on the flashlight that was attached to the soldier's rifle, using it for light as he sorted through the piles of medical supplies he had scrounged up from the wreckage. He had found a dark blue duffel bag, with Emergency Services stitched in white to the side along underneath a red cross, and he was stuffing it with whatever they might need for the days ahead. He worked quietly. Whether that was because he didn't know what to say or he didn't want to bother Sarah, who had been mostly lost in her thoughts, was unclear.

"Uncle Tommy, are we going to die?" Sarah asked softly, glancing at her uncle who looked very much taken aback by the question.

She saw the struggle in his face as he tried to come up with a suitable response. It was not a fair question. She knew that, but it was the one question that was dominating her mind at the moment. And she needed to know. She needed to be reassured that they were not, in fact, going to die, even though she knew full well her uncle could not guarantee such an outcome. Even if he had to lie.

She had heard what Becky had said in the end and seen what had happened up on that hill, how Richard and Becky tried and failed to protect the family they so dearly loved, how little Ricky had died in his mother's arms, and it frightened her. More than the fact that she had seen people burning, their screams still ringing in her ears. More than when she had watched those crazed people attacking others and been chased herself.

Thoughts of death were certainly not normal thoughts for a teenage girl to have, or most young people for that matter, and so she had never really thought about it before. But now, having come so close to death herself, and having seen death all around her for the last few harrowing hours, she was forced to confront the horrifying reality of it. So far there was only one thing she was sure of with regards to death: she did not want to die.

Life was the only thing she knew. This life. Sure, people talked about the possible things after life like heaven and hell and reincarnation and all that, but she was not particularly religious and so she wasn't sure if there even _was_ such a thing as an afterlife. What if there was absolutely nothing once this life ended? What if everyone simply ceased to be and death was the end of the only existence they would ever know?

"Sarah, honey," her uncle started hesitantly. "We are _not_ going to die anytime soon, you hear me? Not if I have anything to say about it. And trust me. . . I have a lot to say on the matter." His words were spoken with conviction, although she could see it in his eyes that there was doubt and fear swirling in his mind. Still, his words brought some measure of comfort.

"I know that. . . it's been hell for the last few hours. You've seen things. . . been through things that no young girl should ever be put through. But. . . nothing we do can change what's happened," he continued. "All we possibly can do is keep moving forward. Keep staying strong. Keep surviving."

"B-Becky didn't think so," she whispered, feeling on the verge of tears once again and trying hard to restrain them. She was still appalled that someone would think of taking their own life like that, and the woman's words echoed in her mind. She hated the fact that a part of her saw some truth to what the woman had said. Her words had been so hopelessly pessimistic and ominous that Sarah wished she had never heard them.

Apparently it was possible for her uncle to look even more conflicted than he already did, taking even longer to formulate a reply to her statement this time around. His mouth opened and closed several times, and he tried and failed to produce any coherent sentences for a moment.

"She. . . well. . . Becky was. . . not in a right state of mind."

"You mean she was crazy?" Sarah offered softly.

"In a way, yeah." He diverted his gaze away and sighed. "I can kind of understand how she was feeling back there. . . I mean, she had just. . . she had lost everything. Her husband. . . her son. . . To have all that tragedy happen at once, right at the moment when you thought the nightmare was over, that you might actually be safe. . . It changed her. Hell, I think. . . _If_ that ever happened to me, and it _won't_ ," he looked pointedly at her, "But _if_ it did, I'm not so sure I wouldn't have done the same thing."

A long quiet fell between them and she looked over at him.

He was sitting diagonally from her on the other side of the space, his back against that side of the ambulance. Even though he and her dad were brothers, Sarah didn't think they looked that much alike. There was some resemblance, sure, but where her father had short hair, her uncle had long. Her dad's black hair was also much different from her uncle's dirty blonde, and her dad was clean shaven whereas her uncle had the whole rough cowboy look going with a mustache and beard. They were both sturdily built, though her father was even more so than his younger brother, and her dad was a few inches taller.

She supposed that in terms of general bone structure they looked similar enough to be related in some way. However, they looked more different than alike that she thought if someone didn't know their exact relationship beforehand, they might assume that the two men were cousins, not brothers. But what they lacked in physical similarities, they more than made up for with their similar personalities.

They were both stubborn, hot-headed, hardworking, practical, reserved, and held a deep love and care for their family. They also had a shared sense of humor, one that Sarah had inherited, though she was not afraid to admit that her uncle had more of that part than her dad, who was by far the more serious of the two.

Thinking about her father made her miss him terribly, and she wondered where in Europe he was, and whether Europe was going through the same thing they were going through right now. She really hoped not.

"Do you think. . . dad's okay?" she asked, looking at her uncle worriedly. Even after everything she had been through today, she felt that losing her dad would be the worst, and she shuddered to even think about the possibility.

"Of course he is. Your dad is the toughest bastard I know," he replied seriously, then hastily added, "Uh, sorry for the language, Sarah."

Sarah let out a snort. She didn't mind it. It was not like she didn't know any curse words herself. She'd have to be living under a literal rock in this day and age to not already be aware of curse words. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

He laughed a little, the first genuine laugh of the night, and it made even Sarah smile despite the circumstances.

"No, but even if I was I'd still be telling you the truth." He leaned his head back and looked up at the floor-turned-ceiling. "He mentioned stories about when we were growing up, right?"

"Uh-huh. Not too many, though."

"Well, it wasn't the best childhood so I can imagine he didn't exactly want to share a lot of what happened to us. We had to fend for ourselves at a very young age and for a while there it wasn't. . . pretty. Anyway, I think it's best that he tell you the specifics himself when he feels you oughta know. . . but let's just say that he took care of me more than I took care of him. So if I can get us through what hell we've just gone through, he can do it too. That's for sure."

She nodded slowly, wondering if she would again get the chance to even ask her dad for more stories of their childhood. "So you really think he's alright then?"

"Sarah, I don't just think he is. I _know_ he's alright. In fact, I bet he's on his way back to Texas right now to come looking for you and me. You know you mean the world to him, right? He'd do anything to keep you safe."

She hugged her legs closer to herself and hoped he was right.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Nobody was coming.

That was the conclusion that Joel had come to as he sat in the pilot's seat, staring with half-closed eyes at the soaking wet blankets he had draped over the flat pieces of metal he had maneuvered to block the broken cockpit windows. Brightening sunlight was gradually finding its way through the gaps and slowly illuminating the inside of the cockpit.

He was very uncomfortable, between his damp clothes, the cold air, and the hard seat he had glued himself to all night. He was also far too stiff and much too sore to move elsewhere, not that there was anywhere better for him to move to.

Joel glanced down at the sleeping figure wrapped underneath a couple of blankets, one of which he had been using up until he noticed the girl still shivering even under her own blanket. A small part of him regretted that now, cold as he was.

He was dangerously close to actually really caring about the girl, and not simply in a 'CIA operative protecting a valuable asset or objective' kind of way. One of the biggest rules he had, and most operatives had, was to never get emotionally invested or attached during missions. Staying emotionally detached and closed off allowed them to focus and to make the best possible decisions, since emotions tended to get in the way of that. It was never easy, and sometimes there were cracks in the emotional armor, such as what had happened last night during his chat with Ellie.

But many of the more successful agents, Joel included, had survived and succeeded time and time again because they were able to stick to this rule more often than not. He reminded himself that this mission was no exception, and last night had been a fluke brought on by the fact that they had survived a plane crash together. Her story last night of how she came to be in the clutches of the Phoenix Corps had also helped to warm the cold exterior he often put up. It also did not help that she seemed to be roughly the same age as his daughter, though he realized that he did not know how old she actually was.

At some point in the near future, he had a feeling he would have to set the record straight with the girl. He was not an enemy, but neither was he a friend, and it was better for both of them that way. After he dropped her off back at headquarters in Langley, he most likely would never see her again.

As the morning light continued to intensify, he decided that it was time to start moving and loosening up his terribly stiff muscles. With some effort and grunting, he managed to get up off the chair and onto his feet. Careful to avoid stepping on the sleeping girl, he moved towards a banged up panel to one side of the cockpit and opened it up with a hard tug.

Behind it was a space dominated by a multitude of wires and cables of varying widths and color that were crisscrossing every which way. Many of them were frayed, cut, or burnt out. Off to the side a little and beneath several thick wires was a hard, cylindrical, orange-colored object - the black box of the plane. There was a small display on the side that indicated that it was operational, which meant that it was broadcasting a locator signal on all known emergency frequencies. This particular model, being on an Agency plane, could also send the distress signal directly to the Agency.

Standard protocol for such incidents as a plane crash involving Agency assets would have a recovery team sent to the crash site to scour through the wreckage for survivors, bodies, and salvageable intel and equipment. Depending on their location, it would have taken several hours for sure. But not this long.

Judging from what Joel could remember of the flight plan from the mission briefing, as well as his gut instinct on how long into the flight they had been before they crashed - since he had not bothered to check the time when he was fighting for his life - he gathered that they were in one of three possible areas. Two of them in Canada: Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. The other possibility was that they were in the New England area of the United States. Anywhere from Connecticut to Maine.

Once he stepped outside, he figured he would be able to narrow it down based on what he could see in the surrounding area. Thinking about the time made him glance at his watch, and for the first time he noticed that it was broken. The digital display was dead and the face of the glass was a web of cracks. Had it broken during the fighting at the Phoenix Corps base, or from the crash?

He sighed. He had worn the watch on basically every mission he had been on since he had received it the day he graduated from The Farm, the CIA's famous training facility. It was a gift from one of his instructors. Joel was not really the superstitious type, nor was he religious, but there were a few things that he considered to be his 'lucky' items, and the watch was one of them. Plus it had some sentimental value. For it to break now. . .

He shook his head. A watch had nothing to do with fate or luck, and this was neither the time nor place to even be contemplating such matters.

Returning to the task at hand, he looked the black box over once more to make sure it was really working. The blinking light told him it was, and this further reinforced the conclusion that nobody was coming because if they were, they would have arrived by now. Hell, they should have arrived hours ago, given their relatively close proximity to major Agency and allied military installations.

Even more troubling was the fact that local authorities had not come to check on the crash site either. The plane was not exactly hiding its presence in the air, and it checked in with both military and civilian air traffic control centers whenever it was within their areas of jurisdiction. While they were not specifically identified as a CIA plane, they did designate themselves as U.S. government. What the heck was going on? Where were the rescue crews?

There were four possible scenarios that Joel could think of for the lack of a response: one, the Agency had not noticed that the plane had gone down and there was some malfunction with the black box, preventing it from properly sending out the distress and locator signals; two, the Agency had written them off and was somehow ignoring protocol; three, they had been betrayed and this was all supposed to happen; and four, the Agency and the government was dealing with something so important that it was requiring all available resources.

He was willing to bet on the fourth option, or potentially a combination of the fourth and the first, considering that the first three were very unlikely in his mind. Possible, but highly improbable. So what could be so big that the Agency was entirely focused on it?

He looked back at the young girl on the floor. Had they forced the enemy's hand when they took the girl? Had the Phoenix Corps done something in retaliation while they were in the air?

This was beginning to feel very much like a FUBAR mission, what with all the unanswered and very important questions he had going on in his head. The last time he could remember ever being in a similar situation had also involved an aircraft incident at one point. Specifically, a helicopter crash, and a particularly nasty one as well. Apparently he did not do well with air travel.

Ellie stirred then, making that half-yawning and half-stretching sound that people sometimes did when first waking. She blinked, pulling the blankets closer around her as she looked around blearily.

Her eyes found Joel in the dark confines of the cockpit. "It's freezing," she stated, her tone implying that he could try and do something about it.

Joel shrugged. "It's pretty cold." They would be hard-pressed to find something combustible after last night's deluge; everything out there was soaked through, and they did not exactly have much of anything to burn inside the cold and damp cockpit either. "At least it stopped raining," he added.

"Yay," she said sarcastically.

"Well, now that you're up, I suppose we can get organized."

"Uh. . . sure?" Ellie gave him a quizzical look.

"I told you last night we'd better get the lay of the land, find a hill or a mountain or something that'll give us a view of the area so we can figure out where to go," he reminded her. He at least hoped there were mountains or hills nearby, because that would make things a whole lot easier.

"Right. Well, I'm not sure I can go too far with this stupid leg. It still hurts a lot."

He looked towards where her legs were hidden underneath the blankets, as if he could see through them to her injured knee. "We have to try. We can't just sit here and wait."

"Can't we?" she asked, though he was not quite sure if she was serious or joking.

He shook his head. "No, we can't. We don't have a lot of supplies so we'll need to get out of here anyway."

"Don't get me wrong, Joel, it's not like I want to stay here or anything. It's just. . . I seriously don't think I can move too far, and I'm really afraid of making it worse, you know?" she explained, sitting up and pushing herself back until she was pressed up against the side of the cockpit.

"We have to try," Joel said with finality, ending the discussion. "Now get yourself ready, I'll look over the wreckage one last time before we head out. Might find something we can still use, now that all the fires are out and the sun's up." Before she could say anything else, he pushed his way through the heavy, wet blankets and out into the sunlight.

When Joel returned to the cockpit about twenty minutes later with a tattered backpack that looked even worse for wear than Ellie's, he found the girl still sitting on the floor wrapped in blankets.

"Did you not hear me when I said to get ready?" he asked in slight irritation. "We're burning daylight."

She glared up at him. "I heard you. But apparently you didn't hear the part where I said I can't get far with this stupid fucking injury." She moved her hands towards her injured left leg, fingers curled in frustration. "I can't. . . I can't even stand up."

"Well, that's a problem."

"Thank you, captain obvious," Ellie muttered, crossing her arms and looking away.

He sighed. He did not think it was wise to spend another night here, especially since they did not have a lot of supplies to go around and they were out in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere from what he could see as he had walked around. Unfortunately, there were no mountains or hills that would give them a better view of the land. He also saw no aircraft flying anywhere in the skies, nor did he see any smoke in the distance that might indicate someone was out there.

They would have to pick a direction and hope that they were lucky enough to stumble across some form of civilization.

Ellie looked back at him. "Can't we just stay here and wait until either my leg gets better or someone comes along? I mean, someone _had_ to have noticed that our plane crashed, right? I mean, especially your super spy friends or something. I'm sure they're out looking for us."

This time it was Joel's turn to look away as his gaze drifted over to the panel behind which was nestled the black box.

"Afraid not. Like I said, we can't wait around for somebody to come because ain't nobody coming."

Her brow furrowed. "How do you know that? I thought. . . I thought that your friends at least would co-"

"They're not coming. Because if they were, they would have been here already."

"Maybe they're late?"

He gave her a level look. "They're not late."

"Well, weren't they late with that helicopter they came in to pick us up in before?"

She had a point. But this was beyond late and more into the territory of never coming, in his experience. That did remind him that the London field office had reported that they were dealing with something that required assets that had been reserved for his missions to be re-purposed. That fourth scenario was starting to sound more and more likely.

When he did not reply right away, Ellie continued talking. "Maybe they're on their way and just. . . got lost or something. Which is why they're late. I'm sure there's tons of places we could have crashed and-"

"Ellie," he interrupted her with a heavy sigh, "There's been an emergency beacon transmitting our exact coordinates to any authorities nearby as well as to the Agency since we crashed." He pointed to the panel. "They know _exactly_ where we are, and they've known for hours now. The fact that nobody has come so far means that nobody _is_ coming, because in my experience they would have already been here."

She mulled that over for a few seconds, her brow furrowing again. "Wait, are you saying you've been in a plane crash before?"

"What?" he gave her an exasperated look. "No, of course I haven't."

"Then how do y-"

"Because I do, Ellie. Now can we stop discussing this and get a move on?" The girl was almost as stubborn as he was, and in that sense she kind of reminded him of Sarah. For a brief moment he thought of his daughter and hoped that she was staying out of trouble, though if she ever did get into any trouble he trusted his brother would take care of her.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Did you already forget that I can't exactly move at the moment? How exactly are we going to go anywhere with me like this?"

Joel thought for a moment before he looked at her seriously. They really only had one option, not that he much liked it.

"I'll carry you."

- **xxxVxxx** -

Being carried was easier said than done, but they managed to figure out the best way to go about it after about fifteen minutes. Fifteen painful minutes for Ellie, whose leg was jostled more than once during the ordeal.

The brace did a good enough job to protect it and keep it fairly immobile, but it was not perfect, and she felt every imperfect moment very acutely when it struck. She was quite vocal about it too, much to Joel's chagrin, though he did well to bite his tongue.

Joel had the backpack he had found strapped over his chest, with Ellie piggybacking on his broad back. He seemed to struggle with carrying her, and more than once grunted in what she thought was either pain or exertion, and possibly even both. She eyed her leg nervously, stretched out straight ahead past Joel's waist. It would be difficult to keep things from hitting her leg, and if Joel jostled her too much it would most likely hurt, but he seemed set on moving out of this place and it was not like she had much choice in the matter.

"Are you okay? I'm not _that_ heavy," she said, noting his unease.

He shook his head. "It ain't that you're heavy or anything. Just sore and stiff 'cause of the crash."

"Please, please, _please_ be careful, Joel," she pleaded as he was about to step out of the cockpit. Just seeing her leg sticking out in front of them was making her nervous, so she tried hard not to look down at all.

He paused for a moment and half-turned his head. "I'll do my best," he managed to say before plunging ahead.

"OW!" she cried as Joel hopped off and landed on the ground a few feet below. The impact jarred her entire body and her leg, and the pain was sharp as it shot through her.

The sunlight hit her fully once they were outside, her eyelids shutting almost completely as her eyes stung from the sudden increase in light. She shivered, reminded of the cold by a strong breeze, but it was not as bad as last night and she was thankful for that. Her pale skin was not quite sure what to make of the warm sunlight and the cold breeze that was simultaneously assaulting it, and she felt rather strange because of it.

For the first time, Ellie saw the crashed plane in the sunlight, and while it was not as crazy as seeing it at night when it was up in flames, it was still quite the sight. She again found herself wondering how in the world they survived. As amazing as it had been to fly for the first time, if she were to never step foot onto another plane ever again, it would be too soon.

Joel started walking around the nose of the plane and then away from the crash site, his steps steady and deliberate.

Ellie got a good glimpse of the surrounding area for the first time, noticing the lack of mountains or hills that Joel had been hoping to climb. They were in the middle of a vast plain with a few mild bumps and dips here and there, but otherwise it was pretty flat. On every side of the edge of the plain were trees that seemed to extend towards the horizon in every direction, the sea of leaves awash in the colors of autumn.

"So. . . uhh. . . Joel? There are no hills or mountains anywhere," she commented, glancing for a moment at the back of Joel's head.

His close-cropped black hair was messy and slightly damp, though whether it was from sweat or from the moisture in the air, she was not sure.

He only grunted in response.

"Where are we going then? What's the plan?" she asked, looking straight ahead of them towards the increasingly closer line of trees in the distance.

"West."

"West?" she repeated, hoping for further explanation than that. "How do you know where to go?"

"The sun."

"The sun?" Ellie parroted for a moment, then realized what he was getting at. "Oh," she said. Of course. The sun rose in the east and set in the west. And right now the rising sun was behind them. "But why west?"

"Because."

"Okayyy. . . that's rather vague," she said, taking another look at the trees ahead. She did not see how it was any different from any of the others around. "Do you even know where we are? I thought you said you'd be able to tell by taking a look around once the sun was up."

"I have an idea," he replied, once again apparently not up to explaining.

"Right. And does Mr. Idea-man care to share his thoughts with little Miss Clueless here?"

He grunted again.

"Oh, wow. That's a wonderful idea, Joel. Way to think about that. Thanks for letting me know. I'm glad we had this talk," she said in as sarcastic a cheery voice as she could muster.

She did not understand why he was being so tight-lipped since he at least answered her the few times they've talked before, especially during last night's conversation. Now it was like he did not want to talk to her at all.

"You're welcome," he replied coolly, as if hearing her thoughts and emphasizing the point.

She huffed in annoyance and stayed quiet for a while. Fine. If he did not want to talk, then she would not talk. Ellie could play this game very well. She had many years of experience ignoring people who tried to talk to her, not that there had been many.

The rhythmic up-and-down motion with each step Joel took was rather calming as she continued to look around. She tried to find anything interesting within eyesight, but all she saw was simply ground, grass, plants, and trees, with the occasional rock jutting out of the ground. All of which was wet from the recent rain.

They continued on for who knew how long until finally they neared the treeline that they had been making for, at which point Joel abruptly stopped and then tensed up.

"What is it?" she asked, breaking her silence and gripping him a little nervously as she looked ahead. She could not see anything else moving out there that was neither tree nor tree limbs swaying in the cold breeze.

"I thought I saw something," he said, starting to walk again, but this time even slower than the pace he had been going on earlier.

"An animal, maybe?" she asked quietly, thinking of scary images of angry wolves or tigers. Or _bears_.

"Maybe."

Ellie did not like that answer. That was actually one of the questions he could have chosen not to answer at all and she would have been totally fine with it. She scanned the treeline once more and saw nothing that really caught her eye. It occurred to her that maybe Joel was scaring her on purpose, but then thought better of it. She did not think he was the type of guy to do nonsense stuff like that.

"Joel."

He did not respond to her.

"Joel?" she said, leaning closer to his left ear this time.

He jerked his head a little to the side in surprise, half-turning in an attempt to glare at her, but she was too far behind him and his neck did not allow him to swivel that far around.

"What do you want, Ellie?" he asked, looking back straight ahead.

"Are you going to tell me where we are? I kinda want to know."

He was quiet for a moment, and Ellie thought that he might have ignored her or not heard her again. But then he spoke. "Canada."

"Are you sure? I mean, how can you even tell?"

"Pretty sure." He did not answer her second question, but she was inclined to believe him. He had not lied to her yet, then again she was not quite sure how to tell if what he had said before had been lies or not either.

She leaned back a little, straightening her back and looking about as they crossed the treeline and continued on into the forest beyond.

So this was Canada. She had seen some pictures before, back at the orphanage, and a few from some of the few books that the scientists allowed her to have. Most of her pictures and knowledge of it were about tall, snow-capped mountains, chilling sub-zero temperatures, and major cities.

"So this is Canada?" she said softly. "I was expecting more. . . snow."

"It's not winter yet," he responded.

"You mean they do get snow around here?"

"A lot. But it's only the beginning of fall."

"I also thought there were like, lots of huge mountains covered with snow and people skiing and stuff too."

"Well, this is a part of Canada that doesn't have a lot of mountains," he said dryly.

"Yeah, I noticed," she said with a roll of her eyes, though he was not able to see it. Then she asked, "What date is it today anyway? What month is it? I know it's 2013, at least. But I have no idea what month or day it is. They never really answered me whenever I'd ask what date it was. And the only reason I know it's 2013 is because some of the calendars in some of the labs happened to have 2013 written on them all big and bold so that it was easy to see."

He was slow to respond. "It's the 28th of September." There was a hint of sadness in his voice when he said so, but Ellie could have been imagining it so she decided not to ask.

"September huh? You're right, I guess it's not winter yet. . . but it sure feels like it," she said, shivering involuntarily as she thought about the cold. She could not remember the last time she experienced winter, or seen actual snow for that matter. She had been stuck indoors for a very long time.

He was quiet again so she kept talking. It was not like there was anything else better to do, and at this point she didn't even care if he responded or not. Or if he was even listening.

"You know, I never thought I'd get to see Canada. Or any other countries for that matter. I mean, I've seen them in pictures and books and a little bit on TV back at the orphanage. And then when we were. . . uh. . . sometimes I'd overhear some of the scientists or the guards talking about stuff from their country, because you know, a bunch of them were from all over. It was kinda cool to hear about all these places that seemed worlds away from my little room."

She sighed as she went on about other things she knew about Canada. But then she stopped. "Joel?" she called to him with worry.

The man had stopped once more, stiffening and looking intently towards some bushes about twenty yards away.

Ellie heard it, the rustling that was obviously not caused by the wind blowing through the bushes. Something was out there.

"What is it?" she whispered nervously, tightening her arms around him.

He shrugged ever so slightly. "Might be an animal," he whispered back, "But. . ."

"But what?" she asked quickly, her voice still hushed. He could not just trail off like that! What if it was a _bear_? Those things were monstrously huge and vicious, and they would no doubt be dead meat if it was one.

He walked to the nearest tree and carefully put Ellie down, out of sight from the rustling bushes. Their eyes locked briefly.

"Stay here," he said sternly.

Ellie sighed heavily. "For the last time, does it look like I'm going anywhere?" she whispered fiercely at him as he turned and walked closer to the bushes, not bothering to respond her. He kept telling her to stay put like she had anywhere better to go even if she _could_ walk. She did not even know where she was for crying out loud. Why did he keep expecting her to run for it?

She put that thought off for later and watched as he pressed himself up against the tree trunk, peering around it towards the bushes. She could scarcely believe it. Their best bet was to walk away or sneak around it, and yet Joel wanted to wait for it. She was not sure if he was simply brave and confident, or very foolish and stupid.

He had drawn the pistol at his hip, the only gun that she had so far noticed him using even though he had two pistols. She wondered whether there was a significance to that, and made a mental note to ask him about it later. Assuming there was a later and they were not torn apart by vicious, hungry bears. Was his gun even powerful enough to stop a bear?

It occurred to her that if it actually turned out to be a bear, Joel at least had the luxury of being able to run away. She shivered, and not just from the cold. Would he leave her to die like that if that were the case?

The rustling got louder. From where she was sitting she could see Joel, but she could not see the bushes. The anticipation was nerve-wracking, and she was already picturing a group of giant bears storming out and eating them in a bloody mess.

Joel moved out of cover and raised his pistol just as the rustling had stopped and Ellie watched, waiting for him to fire. When he did not, she felt relief wash over her. Maybe it was not a bear after all. She watched as he slowly lowered his pistol. Then her curiosity was piqued, so she carefully crawled far enough for her to get a glimpse of what exactly the guy was looking at.

"Whoa," she breathed.

Standing before them was a brown-furred, four-legged animal with a massive crown of antlers that actually looked rather dangerous. It would have looked even more majestic were it not for the fact that it kind of had an ugly long face. Though it was still a beautiful animal in its own right, she supposed.

Its big brown eyes were staring straight at Joel and her, as if sizing them up. This was the first time she had ever seen a real life wild animal before, and it was undeniably cool.

Ellie had no idea what the animal was, but it kind of looked like an over-sized deer. What she did know was that it was most definitely not a bear, and the wave of relief that washed over her was palpable.

When it turned away, apparently deciding that they were not a threat, and began to move off to wherever it was headed, she called to Joel.

"Joel! What was that?" she asked with a small smile, her eyes continuing to follow the animal as it moved away.

He glanced at her and chuckled. "That? That was a moose."

"A moose? What kind of a name is that?"

"Beats me." Joel shrugged and they both looked back to where the animal had disappeared into the brush.

"Do you think they named it because it makes a mooing sound just like a cow?"

He snorted and shook his head. "C'mon, let's get a move on. We're burnin' daylight." He crouched down right next to her.

"Joel, that was a serious question! I've never seen a moose before, and it didn't make any sound or anything so now I'm wondering if it does go moo. . . because then it would kinda make sense for it to be called a moose. But then why didn't they call a cow a moose too? Do you think they found the moose before the cow, and then when they heard the cow moo they were like. . . hey, we can't call two different animals a moose. . ." She paused, thinking. "Hmmm. . . but then why did they name the cow a cow? You ever think about that?"

"Ellie. . ."

"I'm just glad it wasn't a bear, you know? Some of the books I've read that involve bears have been kind of terrifying. And I've seen pictures, Joel. They're huge. Like monstrously huge. I would very much not like to be bear food, and I know Canada has bears. You think there are bears around here? Please tell me there aren't any." She thought for a second, then added. "Actually, even if there are bears, I'd prefer it if you told me there aren't any."

"Ellie. . ." he repeated, more pointedly this time.

"Sorry," she said meekly, realizing that she had been rambling. She tended to do that sometimes, particularly after a nerve-wracking or panic-stricken event.

There were few things that scared her more than bears, and some of the assholes back at the facility she had been held at would often threaten to throw her into a bear pit that they supposedly had made specially for her whenever she was not being too cooperative. That more often than not got her to give up struggling against them, the few times that she did.

"Are there are lot of moose in Canada?" she asked as she clambered onto his back, trying to change the subject back to something less scary.

"Yep. Tons," he said with a grunt.

Once she was settled again on his back, they proceeded to go deeper into the forest. The foliage was getting thicker, the rocks and roots more numerous, and the trees denser. This meant that Joel had to be even more careful with his step, so their pace got progressively slower to the point that they probably covered only half the distance they had originally covered earlier, but in twice the time.

She was also beginning to wonder as to whether or not his plan of moving elsewhere was a good one, since it seemed less and less likely that they would come across anyone or anything out here other than maybe more wild animals.

As usual, she would often talk about one thing or another while they walked, with Joel mostly responding in his usual grunts or short, curt sentences. That is, if he responded at all. She decided not to press him for response after a time, filling the spaces where he should have been holding up his end of the conversation with more talk.

After the last of her fellow orphans stopped coming back from the labs, leaving her all alone, she pretty much stopped talking voluntarily - not that she had much opportunity to talk anymore. Whenever she did end up saying anything, it was often because she had been forced to.

Now that she was out here and freer than she had ever been before, it was like a dam broke loose inside and her thoughts and words stumbled out, pressing to be released into the world. She was aware that maybe she was talking a little _too_ much, but for the moment she did not care. She relished in the freedom to talk about anything and everything without fear of being punished, not just about how she was feeling or to answer questions during testing or interviews or whatever the heck the scientists or the guards wanted her to talk about.

After some time had passed, she stared at the back of Joel's head again. She knew very little about him.

Besides the fact that he did not believe in fate and was more of the 'I control my own destiny' type of person, which she had admitted was a view that she kind of liked, she also knew that he was a secret agent or super spy person who could be pretty bad ass when he needs to be. She had seen it first hand, what with him breaking her out of her prison and saving their butts from some crazy cannibal pilot on the plane and then miraculously landing, or rather, crash-landing said plane.

Beyond those two facts, assuming he had not lied about any of that, Ellie had no idea about anything else concerning Joel. And it did not seem likely that she would get to know him much better, given how unresponsive he had been to any of her attempts at conversation. A pity, since she was actually starting to think that she might actually be able to trust him, even after everything she had said to him before about not trusting anyone.

Although she figured that just because he was being difficult about it did not mean she should stop trying to get to know more about him, since she was stubborn like that. So when he actually said something on his own that was not in response to anything Ellie had said, she was surprised.

"I hope you're not getting too comfortable back there," Joel said tiredly, filling the silence for once, "Just so you know, I ain't carrying you forever."

"Darn," she said in reply, grinning, "And here I was thinking of buying a saddle and everything."


	6. Respite

Sarah didn't even realize she had drifted off to a luckily dreamless sleep, but the next thing she knew, she was waking up feeling stiff as a board against the hard plastic surface of the ambulance ceiling that was now technically the floor. And what's more, she woke up because her uncle had shaken her from her slumber.

The dim morning light shone on his tired face, illuminating his grim expression as he stared down at her, a finger pressed against his lips indicating that she should be quiet. He was crouched next to her, the assault rifle he had gotten from the dead soldier in his other hand and resting against his thighs. That could only mean there was danger nearby.

Fear gripped her then, winding around her like a noose. Was it more of the infected? She wasn't sure how far or how fast she could run in her current state. Her body ached from everything that happened the previous night as well as sleeping on such an uncomfortable surface. It felt like she had run a marathon and then been thrown into a clothes dryer set to heavy duty. She didn't even want to think what would happen if one of those things caught her.

Then she heard the footsteps from outside. Boots thudding against dirt and rock. Then a conversation. People.

"Dwyer and Maeshiro, sweep the area ahead," said a gruff voice. Clearly male.

"This shit is a fucking mess," said another voice. Male.

"Let's go." A third voice. Female. More footsteps sounded, though they became more distant.

"Cartwright. Gutierrez. Check the bodies for anything useful."

There were a couple of affirmatives. They sounded like soldiers. Sarah's fear heightened, though she wasn't sure if she was more afraid of getting shot by soldiers or getting mauled by the infected. She much preferred to not go through either experience.

"And Thompson, go check the ambulance for medical supplies. We're gonna need 'em."

"Yes, sir," said the man apparently named Thompson. His footsteps drew closer to the ambulance, making both Sarah and her uncle tense up.

Tommy readied the AR in his hands as he slid as quietly as he could in front of Sarah, shielding her with his body as the soldier stopped in front of the bay doors. Sarah breathed as quietly and shallowly as she could, trying her hardest not to make any noise. The soldier was by the doors in a matter of seonds and he tried to open them, but they were still locked. Before Sarah could think of what he might do next, one of the tinted windows was suddenly broken in, accompanied by the sound of scattering glass that showered the interior. Both Sarah and her uncle flinched at the sudden destruction.

After brushing off the remaining fragments of glass from around the window frame, an arm covered in long-sleeve military camouflage reached in blindly, gloved hand grasping for the locking mechanism. It took him more than several seconds to find it and figure out how it worked, but he managed. The lock disengaged with a clack and the soldier withdrew his arm. One of the doors swung open.

The soldier stepped in, half crouching, gun held low and loose, and he didn't notice the two in the corner immediately to his right at first. And by the time he did notice, Tommy already had the AR aimed at the soldier. At such close range, he was not going to miss.

"Don't. Move." Tommy spoke in a quiet but threatening tone.

The soldier, Thompson, froze in place. His eyes darted towards Tommy and then down at the gun he was holding. "H-Hey now," he said. "Let's just keep calm, alright? No need to do anything hasty."

"I _am_ calm," replied Tommy. "Now listen. Here's what's gonna happen: you're gonna keep quiet until I say you can speak, you'll drop your gun slowly on the floor, and you ain't gonna make any sudden moves. Keep your hands where I can see 'em too. Do anything else and I swear I will blow your brains across the inside of this ambulance. You understand?"

Thompson nodded and moved slowly and deliberately as he unslung the weapon from his shoulder and placed it down as directed. Tommy carefully aimed his AR on him the whole time, finger hovering over the trigger.

"Sarah? Honey? I need you to do something for me." Tommy said.

A look of surprise crossed the soldier's face, his eyes flicking to Sarah who was barely visible behind her uncle, apparently noticing her for the first time.

Sarah wasn't expecting this at all. "Y-Yeah?" she said nervously.

"I need you to take his gun away and keep it for now. Can you do that for me, kiddo?" Her uncle spoke barely loud enough to be heard by everyone inside the ambulance.

Sarah could feel her heart thumping in her chest. It was an easy enough task, and yet she was finding it incredibly difficult for her to move out from behind her uncle. She swallowed hard.

"It's okay, Sarah. The gun is on the floor and he won't do anything to you. Right?" said Tommy pointedly.

The soldier nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah. . ."

"See? Now go on, Sarah. Just take the gun for now. We don't want him to think of doing anything stupid."

"I won't," said the soldier.

Tommy shrugged. "Sorry if I ain't gonna take your word for it. Some of those bodies out there on the hill are innocent people gunned down by soldiers following stupid orders."

The soldier kept quiet.

Sarah's heart was beating so loud she wondered if everyone else could hear it. She slowly crawled around her uncle's crouched form and moved closer to the rifle on the ground. She hoped her uncle didn't mean for her to actually use that thing. Her dad and her uncle had owned guns for a long time, but she never took an interest in them. Frankly, guns scared her. Especially now after what she had gone through only a few hours ago.

"Back up a little," Tommy said to the soldier, who took a tentative step back and continued to keep his hands up.

Sarah was keenly aware of the soldier's gaze on her as she reached for the rifle, one that looked almost exactly like the one her uncle was currently wielding. It was heavier than she expected, the metal cold and unfamiliar against her skin, but she managed to retrieve it and held it to her chest awkwardly as she shuffled back next to her uncle. Her hands were shaking a little.

"Good job, kiddo." Tommy spared a glance at her and gave her an encouraging smile before returning his focus on the soldier. His voice was hard. "Now here's what's gonna to happen. You're gonna sit down and answer some of my questions, then you're gonna to listen to what I have to say, and after that we're going to figure out what we're gonna do. Understand?"

The two of them stared at each other for a few heartbeats, and then the soldier nodded at him before he slowly slid down against the other side of the ambulance, taking a seat on the floor. Either not noticing or not caring about the broken glass everywhere as his legs slid across some of the pieces. His hands rested on his lap in clear view. He appeared to be doing his best not to provoke Tommy.

Tommy began his questioning. "Who are you guys? And how many of you are out there?"

"We're a squad of eight currently being led by Lieutenant Laggs and Staff Sergeant Kelley. 5th Platoon, 3rd Company, 1st Battalion under the 72nd Infantry Brigade Combat Team. 36th Infantry Division. U.S. Army National Guard."

Tommy was silent, wondering if he could trust what the soldier was even saying. If the soldier had been lying, he would have probably embellished the number of soldiers out there. Seven other squad mates did mean the odds were heavily stacked against Tommy, so he supposed changing that number to thirty or more wouldn't have made much of a difference.

"The 36th huh? You guys are based out of Austin, aren't you? What in the hell is going on out there?"

"Yeah, that's right. We got the emergency call up a few days ago and we were told to get ready for rapid deployment. No one really told us what was happening or anything. Then yesterday we were sent out all across the area in and around Austin just as all hell was breaking loose."

"Wait, you got called up a few days ago? Then that means. . . the government. . . the military. . . y'all _knew_. . . _you knew_ about the shitstorm about to go down and nobody said nothin' to the people!" Tommy sounded pissed, and rightfully so, though he was mindful enough to keep his volume down.

Thompson shrugged, a frown forming on his face. "Hey, I didn't know about any of this! I mean, I guess. . . maybe the higher ups knew somethin', but most of us had no clue what was going down until we were sent out and saw people start killing each other in front of our eyes like they were rabid beasts. I mean, I still can't believe it even now, you know? It's like somethin' out of goddamn video game or movie."

Sarah could agree with that. Everything that she had seen, everything that had happened so far, seemed like the stuff that was portrayed in games and movies.

Tommy sighed, getting a hold of himself. "So what was the plan anyway? How were y'all supposed to handle this?"

"Look. . . I honestly don't know much about what's going on. I'm just another grunt. But the lieutenant did mention something about some sort of biological attack. He also said there were these quarantine zones the government's setting up all across the country, you know, manned by the military and federal agencies and whoever else is still trying to keep some order in this damned chaos. Strict checks for infection and all that. Tight security. Barricades. Martial law. Rationing. The whole nine yards."

Tommy perked up at that information. "Where's the closest quarantine zone?"

"We were told that there are quarantine zones being set up in Dallas and Houston, so I guess. . . Houston would be closer to us here. That's where we're heading anyway."

"You guys are on the way there?"

"Yeah," Thompson said, his frown deepening. He seemed genuinely upset and perhaps even disturbed as his voice quieted a fraction. "More than half the division's gone AWOL. There was talk of mutiny and rebellion after. . . after orders came down to shoot civilians, infected or not. Those orders didn't sit well for a lot of us, so we all just up and left our posts. 'This ain't gonna be like the Nazis just followin' orders and shit', we said. At least, most of us thought that way. Some assholes stayed and followed the shitty orders anyway. It's all a fucking mess."

"You're damn right it's a fuckin' mess."

Silence settled between them.

Sarah digested the information the soldier had given them. It didn't sound like things were going well out there. If the military was falling apart and in trouble, what hope was there that this situation would ever be resolved? Though she was at least a little optimistic that they could find safety in one of those quarantine zones. The problem was of course getting there alive.

"Thompson! What the hell's takin' you so long damnit?" barked a voice from somewhere outside.

Tommy steadied the rifle in his hands. "Answer him."

Thompson glanced between Tommy and Sarah. "I'm uh. . . Just about wrappin' up, sarge!" Thompson called back.

"Well get a move on, soldier! We don't got time to piss around," came the quick reply.

Thompson raised his hands slowly in a placating motion towards Tommy. "Look, man. I promise you that we're not gonna harm you and your little girl. We're some of the ones that didn't follow those shit orders and left on our own. That's why we're here, trying to make our way towards Houston and hopefully find somewhere safe. . . somewhere sane."

Tommy sighed. "There's a dead soldier up the hill who killed a man and his son in cold blood. And they weren't even infected. Didn't even give 'em a chance."

"Yeah. . . I understand. So what do you wanna do? If I don't step back out there in the next few minutes, they're going to come here and check on me. And if they see you with a gun pointed at me, I can't promise they won't do something drastic."

Sarah watched as her uncle clenched his jaw. He looked like he was thinking real hard about what to do. She didn't even know what options they had to even consider other than asking for the soldiers to help them or spare them. She _definitely_ didn't want there to be a shootout or anything crazy like that.

"Can you help us get to the quarantine zone?"

Thompson nodded. "We can try, but I can't guarantee anything. Though the way I see it, we're heading there ourselves, and so long as you can pull your weight and don't do anything stupid there shouldn't be any problems. The lieutenant and the sarge will understand. We may be soldiers, but we're people too, and I don't think they'd turn a blind eye to you and your daughter's predicament. Hell, I'm pretty sure the lieutenant has a daughter too."

For a brief moment, Sarah considered correcting him and saying that she wasn't actually her uncle's daughter, but decided that it was probably best if she kept quiet. In their current situation, what did it matter whether or not the soldier understood their true relationship anyway?

Finally, her uncle let out a long sigh and relaxed, gun lowering ever so slightly. "Sarah, give him back his gun."

She hesitated. "A-Are you sure?" she whispered, glancing at him.

Even the soldier seemed a bit surprised, though he said nothing.

"Yeah. I'm sure." Tommy said, never letting his gaze stray from the soldier's own.

Sarah moved to hand the soldier back his gun, and the man raised his hands slowly to accept it, making sure to keep it pointed up and away from them once he got it back.

"What're your names?" asked the soldier.

"Mine's Tommy. This is Sarah. My niece."

The soldier looked between the two of them, then said, "Private First Class Joseph Thompson." He extended a hand to her uncle.

"I'm trusting you here, Thompson," said Tommy, lowering his gun to shake the offered hand. "Our lives are now in your hands."

- **xxxVxxx** -

"Uh-uh. No way. It's gotta be haunted or something," Ellie said, her hands clutching tightly at Joel's shirt.

"Well, we don't have a lot of options here you know. We oughta take what we can get."

They stared at the overgrown log cabin that stood silently in the middle of a small clearing in front of them. It looked sturdily built and clearly hadn't been taken care of in a while. Joel didn't really believe in fate or God or any of that stuff, but this was definitely a stroke of luck for them to even come across it. He thought they would have to rough it in the great outdoors for a while yet, which was fine for him, of course, but he wasn't so sure how Ellie would take to sleeping out in the woods. At least now they would have an actual roof over their heads.

Night was fast approaching, the last vestiges of sunlight filtering through the trees from the setting sun. It was dark enough that Joel had already stumbled over a rock that he had completely failed to spot, nearly sending him and the girl clinging like a koala to his back tumbling into the Canadian dirt. The stumble had been particularly painful for the girl and her injured knee, which Joel felt more than a little guilty about. It would probably be best if they didn't push any farther for today.

Besides, Joel didn't want to admit it out loud, but he was nearing his limit for physical exertion. Between the jet lag, the mission, the plane incident, and lugging it through the forest with supplies and a girl on his back, Joel was in dire need of some rest.

"What if there are like. . . dead bodies in there?" asked Ellie nervously.

"Why would you even think about that?" Joel asked. Unfazed by her question, he started walking closer to the cabin.

"I'm serious!" Ellie whispered fiercely near his ear. "What if this is the secret hideout of some vicious killer and this is where he brings the corpses of his victims?"

Joel sighed and shook his head but didn't say anything as they went around to the front. He paused by one of the windows and peered inside, though the window was dirty enough and the interior was dark enough that he could barely see anything. Still, it didn't look like anyone was inside, but he decided to knock on the door anyway just in case.

Ellie was surprisingly quiet while they both waited to hear any response, though she was gripping his shirt a lot tighter than earlier.

A few seconds ticked by filled with nothing but the sound of the crickets chirping in the forest all around them. Joel glanced around, noting three rusted cans of some kind of paint by the front step and a fallen wind chime in the dirt nearby. How long has it been since someone had come by this place?

After knocking again and waiting a few more seconds, Joel tried the door, but it was locked pretty solidly. Breaking it down would be a last resort, so he would have to try some other less destructive ways to get in first.

"What now?" asked Ellie.

Joel thought for a moment. "You think you can stand on your good leg and lean on the wall for a bit?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Ellie tentatively slid off his back, making sure to keep a good hold on him for balance as she did so, and then hopped on her good leg next to the wall by the front door. Joel took off the backpack that hung across his front and placed it on the ground next to the girl.

"Wait here."

Ellie rolled her eyes.

Joel walked around the outside of the cabin, checking every one of the windows. They were just large enough that if he could open one, he thought he could get in that way. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't going to be that easy. All of them were locked tight like the door, and there wasn't a back door or anything either. He thought he heard the sound of groaning and creaking wood out front and quickly walked back around to find that Ellie was gone.

For a few seconds, he stiffened up and scanned the immediate area, wondering where she could have gone off to.

"So. . . how long are you going to stand out there?" Ellie said as she poked her head out from the now apparently unlocked front door then retreated back inside, though not before giving him a smirk.

Joel stared at where she had been standing through the partially open door and shook his head in amusement. He walked over, grabbing the pack that was still on the ground, then pushed the door open fully as he stepped through the doorway. Shutting the door behind him, he took a good look around.

The first thing he noticed was the stale and musty air that smelled of damp earth and wood. The interior was as small as he expected, with a single bed in one corner, a kitchenette in another corner with an old cast iron stove, and a round table with three chairs. A fourth chair was by the door and had a dusty rain jacket draped over the back, and underneath the chair was a pair of well-worn boots. There was no electricity here so there were no light fixtures or electrical outlets, but there was what looked to be an oil lamp on the table as well as several candles on one of the counters in the kitchenette.

Joel turned to Ellie, who was leaning with her back against the wall to his right. "How did y-"

"Catch." Ellie tossed something at him and his reflexes kicked in as he snatched it out of the air.

He knew what it was as soon as he held it, but opened up his hand to look at it anyway. A dirty metal key rested on his palm. He should have checked for a spare key sooner, but he didn't think his plan to try and get in via a window was a bad idea.

"I found it under one of those paint cans out front by the door," Ellie said, looking rather pleased with herself.

Joel snorted again, the edges of his lips twitching into a slight grin as he pocketed the key. "Nice work."

"See? I'm not just dead weight you're carrying around on your back, you know."

"Uh-huh." Joel swept the room with his gaze. There was a lot to do. "So since you're not dead weight, that means you can help me clean this place up a little, right?"

"Oh wow, I totally would but. . . ugh. . . my knee is starting to throb and. . . I'm not sure if it's a good idea for me to be moving around much right now," Ellie said as she bent over to clutch at her injured leg. "I think I need to sit down for a bit."

"I thought so," Joel said with another snort of amusement.

"You know, I'm really glad there aren't any dead bodies in here like I thought. I was kinda worried about it."

Joel shook his head and watched her hobble over to one of the chairs, brushing off the dirt on the seat before she plopped down on it, and then with a sigh he started cleaning the place up.

First, he opened up all the windows to air the place out. Cool, fresh air blew in for the first time in a long while, kicking up some of the dust that had settled on the various surfaces inside. Then he found some folded up towels in one of the cabinets in the little kitchen and proceeded to wipe down everything. Afterwards, he thumped and wiped at the beddings to get the dust and dirt off and used a broom and dustpan he found in another corner to sweep the floor.

Finally, he decided to fire up the stove since the evening air coming in was turning the already cool interior even colder. He grabbed some of the chopped up firewood he had seen along one side of the exterior of the cabin, scrounged up some of the driest twigs and little sticks he could find, and tore off the pages from a hunting magazine tucked away by the small nightstand next to the bed. All of these were carefully stuffed into the little stove, and he proceeded to light it on fire with a lighter he scrounged up in the crash.

In the end, it took him about an hour to clean up enough for them to get more comfortable. When he was finished, he plopped on the edge of the bed, much cleaner now than when he first found it, and then lay down across it, his feet still resting on the floor. The mattress was stiff, the metal springs creaking beneath his weight, but it felt good to lay down anyway. He let out a tired sigh and shut his eyes. He was going to give Ellie the bed, of course, but he wanted to rest for a little bit beforehand.

"Hey Joel," Ellie said, sounding nervous.

"Yeah?"

"I. . . uh. . . we have a problem."

"What is it?" He turned his head to glance at her.

Ellie was staring at the floor, unable to look at him, as she nervously played with her fingers on her lap.

"Ellie?"

She cringed, then sighed as she continued to fidget. "There's no bathroom."

Joel shrugged. "Yeah. I'm guessing whoever built this place probably just went out into the woods to do their business. Easier that way. No need to build plumbing or anything."

"Easier? Umm okay, I guess that's cool and all. One with nature and stuff. . . but. . . well. . . you see. . . I really need to pee. And with my leg, I can't really. . . you know. . ."

Joel stared at her as he realized what she was getting all worked up about. She couldn't really walk anywhere far on her own or even bend down much with her injured leg in a splint, plus she was wearing jeans. Basically, whatever she was going to do to relieve herself, she was going to need his help.

This was, of course, a problem for Joel. A very big problem.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Tommy was not a gambling man. He had never even stepped foot inside a casino nor gone out to a poker night with the boys, surprising as that may sound. It wasn't like he had anything against it in particular, he simply didn't trust in random chance to take risks with his money like that. Especially since money wasn't exactly easy to come by.

Yet he was well aware that he had gambled his and Sarah's lives when he decided to trust Private Thompson to talk to his squad about allowing them to tag along. Chalk it up to desperate times, he supposed, though he made a note not to mention it to his brother whenever they saw each other again. Joel would probably tear him a new one if he found out.

It was a huge risk after all, given what had happened with the soldier on the hill last night, but at the time he didn't think they had much of a choice. They were essentially surrounded by the squad of soldiers and had already made contact with Private Thompson. If things were going to go south, it would have probably ended badly anyway. Though now of course there was no way to know for sure what would have happened because in the end everything worked out. Thankfully, the lieutenant who led the squad of soldiers agreed easily enough to Tommy's request.

Sergeant Kelley turned out to be a no-nonsense kind of guy with a square jaw and hard light brown eyes. He had been hesitant at first, mostly because he was not keen on babysitting civilians through what was essentially an active warzone, which was understandable. Tommy had done his best to convince him that he could be useful and that he and Sarah would not get in the way, though he wasn't sure if he was successful in swaying the sergeant. Not that it mattered much since Lieutenant Laggs was running the show, and when he gave the order to let them tag along, that was that and there were no complaints.

The Lieutenant was definitely the more approachable of the two leaders. His face was rounded in comparison, though he was by no means fat or even pudgy. He had dark brown eyes that, while not as hard and serious as the sergeant, still shone with experience befitting his rank. He carried himself with a relaxed confidence, which was impressive given the situation they were all in, and spoke calmly but with authority.

The other soldiers didn't seem to care either way if they tagged along or not, though the two females of the squad, Corporal Maeshiro and Private Cartwright, seemed visibly pleased to help them out. He figured it was probably because of Sarah. As they made their way on foot towards the city of Houston, the two women took turns staying close to and chatting with him and Sarah as best as they could.

Tommy certainly appreciated what they were doing, noting that his niece was less apprehensive and less scared because of their efforts.

The group picked their way carefully through the countryside surrounding Austin, Texas. Three of the soldiers traveled some distance away from the main group and acted as forward scouts, one each at approximately their 10 o'clock, 12 o'clock, and 2 o'clock. They kept in touch via radio, though so far they hadn't come across anything of note other than a few bands of infected that they were sure to steer clear of. No sense in getting into unnecessary trouble.

In the main group, Lieutenant Laggs, Sergeant Kelley, and one other soldier named Gutierrez were in loose formation up front, followed by Tommy and Sarah, with Thompson and Maeshiro bringing up the rear.

The city of Houston was pretty far to get to on foot from where they started, but the group was walking for now because many of the roads in the immediate area were impassable, either because of road blocks set up by the military or because of abandoned or disabled vehicles in the way. Most of the roadblocks themselves were now abandoned, with the military pulling back and consolidating their forces in the newly set up quarantine zones, although the physical barriers were still in place.

It worked out better this way anyway. They wanted to attract as little attention as possible, both from other survivors and from the infected, and driving around in vehicles was sure to attract a lot of attention.

"Man. . . My feet are killing me," said Private Thompson, who had walked up from the rear to keep pace with him. "How are you two holding up?"

"I'm alright," Tommy replied. He turned his head to look over at Sarah, who was timidly talking with Cpl. Maeshiro. "I think she's okay for now, too."

To be honest, Tommy was worried about his niece. She really was taking this better than he thought she would, but that didn't mean it wasn't possibly eating at her on the inside. How could it not? The whole situation was even worrying him, after all, and he was sure the soldiers worried about it too.

He would have to keep a close eye on her, if nothing else he was also worried about her keeping up with their forced march to Houston. He knew she was fit for her age, but he wasn't so sure if she could make it all the way there without any problems. Especially with the burden of knowing that around every corner or behind every shadow there was potential danger lurking as the world around them falls apart.

Thompson followed his gaze. "She's a tough one, ain't she? I'm surprised at how well she's taking all this so far. Hard to believe she's just a kid. I'm pretty sure most kids her age are freaking out right now."

"Yeah, she is somethin'. She probably gets it from her old man. He's one of the toughest bastards I know."

"That right?" Thompson chuckled. "He serve in the military?"

"Nah. He's just a good ol' southern boy raised tough and graduated with honors from the school of hard knocks. Though, now that I think about it, he probably would've done well in the service if he had joined up."

"Sounds like a great guy then."

"Yeah. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, though."

Thompson chuckled again. "Aren't we all like that?"

Tommy couldn't help but grin. "I suppose."

They walked in silence for a while, the murmurs of conversation from the two females nearby wafting over, though they couldn't really make out what they were saying.

"Where is he, anyway?" asked Thompson.

"Her dad? I've honestly got no idea," Tommy replied with a frown. "Last we heard from my brother he was on his way to Europe for work before. . . all _this_ happened." He gestured vaguely with his arms towards their surroundings.

Thompson sighed. "Europe huh? That's nice. I've never even left the country."

"Tell me about it. He travels a lot for work and has been all over the damn world. And the best part is the government pays for all that travel too."

"He works for the U.S. government then?"

Tommy nodded. "State Department."

"Ah. That's a good deal for sure. I heard State looks after its people too, so I bet they got him safe in some bunker or quarantine zone or somethin' like that."

"I hope so." Tommy really did hope his brother was okay. He also hoped they would be able to reunite in the not too distant future. At least for Sarah's sake. Her father meant the world to her, and he did not want to think of what would happen if she found out he died. He was not even sure if he could tell her something like that if he ever did find out that Joel was dead. Sometimes, ignorance really was bliss.

"Well, if you'd like, once we get to the quarantine zone I can ask around and see if we have any way to find out what happened to your brother. If he works for the government, then I'm sure it'll be easier to track him down than a regular Joe Schmo."

Tommy stopped walking and stared at the soldier. "You've done a lot for us already, but I won't say no to that if you're really serious about it."

"I am. And I haven't done much at all."

"We owe you a lot, Thompson. So thanks. I really appreciate it."

Thompson sighed again, coming to a stop as well. "Don't worry about it, Tommy." He waved his hand. "Like I said, I didn't really do anything special. If you had approached the sarge or the lieutenant or any of the others instead of me, it would've gone the same way. There are some bad apples in the military, for sure, but there's a lot of us good guys too. And please call me Joe. You ain't military or nothin' so you don't gotta call me by my last name like that. Sounds too formal for my tastes comin' from you."

Tommy snorted. "Alrighty then, Joe. Thank you. Really. I'm not sure how I'll repay you for this, but you can bet I will."

With a shake of his head, the soldier continued walking and waved him to follow. "I'm just doin' my job. Now come on. Don't lag behind. You promised not to be much of a burden on us, and the sarge can get nasty if you get on his bad side."

Getting a move on, Tommy's face split into a grin as he glanced at the sky. To the west, the sun edged closer to the horizon.

- **xxxVxxx** -

Ellie could not quite understand why she felt so embarrassed. It was not like this was the first time she had ever relieved herself in front of people before. But perhaps it was because she was technically 'free' now and Joel was actually someone she knew, if only barely, rather than the nameless faces of the captors who had kept her locked up for who knew how long. Still, when you gotta go, you gotta go, and she did her best to do just that given the circumstances.

If it was any consolation, it at least looked like Joel was as embarrassed, if not more so, than she was.

They had thankfully found half a roll of 2-ply toilet paper in one of the cupboards of the cabin, and Joel had come up with a bit of a solution to make it more comfortable for her to go out in the woods. He had put two of the wooden seats by the dining table out into the woods facing each other with a gap in between. This effectively became a makeshift toilet that she could sit on.

She had needed help to walk over to it, of course, and though she herself pulled down her pants and her panties, she had to do it with one hand while the other held on to Joel for support, since her other leg remained in a splint. Joel had said it would be better not to remove it for something trivial like this, since it was better for the healing process to keep the leg as straight and immobilized as possible. Of course, Joel stood facing away and doing his best to ignore the fact that there was a teenage girl pulling her pants down right next to him to answer the call of nature.

Ellie shivered as she wiped herself with some of the toilet paper that she had torn off from the roll placed on one of the chairs-turned-toilet. It was cold out, now that night had fallen, and though the darkness might have helped to make their situation less awkward, she did need some light to see properly and Joel helped with that too by shining a flashlight on her with his other hand. This meant that it was not at all dark and that anyone could see her nude bottom half clearly.

But thankfully, they were out in the middle of nowhere and Joel had no intentions whatsoever of peeping on a teenage girl like that. Though he was not entirely immune to the awkwardness or embarrassment of the situation, especially once he heard the sound of her peeing.

"Look on the bright side," Ellie said, "At least I didn't have to take a shit."

Joel couldn't help but snort with amusement again and shake his head, though he didn't laugh outright.

Ellie was discovering that it was incredibly hard to get him to laugh, despite her best efforts. So far she had succeeded in only eliciting amused snorts from the gruff secret agent. Though she supposed it was better than not getting any reaction at all.

"Oh wait. Hold up. . . I think I might've spoken too soon."

Joel stiffened up. "Are you. . .?"

Ellie pretended to make some strained noises, as if she were taking the biggest shit of her life, all the while smirking as she eyed Joel's back. He was clearly trying very hard to ignore what was going on behind him. His head was angled up and away, as if worried that the stink of her shit would waft into his nostrils or perhaps worried that he might somehow catch a glimpse of her in his peripheral vision.

Unable to keep up the joke any longer, she burst out laughing and Joel's head turned slightly before he sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"That wasn't funny," he said.

"Wasn't it? I really. . . got you. . . on that one. . . didn't I?" she asked, her words punctuated by laughter that echoed through the night.

He grumbled something she couldn't quite hear, and figured it was probably better she didn't hear it.

"I'm done, by the way," she said as she pulled her underwear and pants back up, grabbing the hem of his shirt for balance.

"Thank goodness," he whispered, but this time a little louder so that she did hear him.

They quietly returned to the cabin. The inside of their new shelter was now filled with a welcome warmth thanks to the fire burning in the cast iron stove. Ellie plopped down on the bed, still smiling from her little poop prank and feeling better about having relieved her bladder. It felt like it had been close to bursting earlier.

Joel said something about checking the perimeter and went outside with the flashlight, returning a few minutes later to lie down on the floor next to the bed, head resting on his pack like a makeshift pillow. He told her to get some sleep and promptly tried to get some himself.

Ellie wasn't quite sleepy yet though. She was tired, but not tired enough to easily drift off to sleep simply because she was laying down. And the bed wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world either. At this point, had she been back in captivity with the Phoenix Corps, she probably would have been reading some of the books that they would give her until she fell asleep. But right now of the few books in her pack, none of them were ones that she felt like reading at the moment.

Besides, it was too dark to read anyway, and their flashlights were reserved for emergency use only. Although an argument could be made for this being an emergency of sorts, she didn't bother to justify flashlight battery usage like that.

"Hey Joel?" she called to him, wondering if he was still awake.

There was a delay in his response, but eventually he said, "Yeah?" He sounded as tired as he looked, and there was a hint of irritation in his voice.

"I can't sleep."

He grunted back at her.

After a few heartbeats, she spoke again. "Hey. You ever think that this is all one crazy nightmare and that you'll wake up back in your bed at home, nice and cozy and safe? That all of this didn't actually happen? Because that would be super nice."

Only the crackling of the fire in the stove sounded as she pondered her own question.

"Or maybe. . . maybe we're actually still back in that plane crash. You know, strapped into our seats, unconscious. . . dreaming all of this? Wouldn't that be super crazy? Like, wow. That would totally fuck with my mind, you know? I mean, hopefully that's not what's actually happening, but what if?"

More silence from Joel. Was he asleep?

"Or. . . what if. . . after that crazy plane crash, we're _actually_ dead, and this is all just–"

" _Good night_ , Ellie," Joel said pointedly.

Ellie's words died on her lips as she cracked a small smile. Well, she supposed she could give him a break. He had carried her on his back all day after all. "Okay, okay. . . good night, Joel." She said the last part in a whisper.

She realized then that this was the first time in a very long time that anyone had wished her good night before, or that she'd wished anyone the same. It felt nice. Really nice.


End file.
